V 


EIGHT   COMEDIES   FOR   LITTLE   THEATRES 


Plays 
By  PERCIVAL  WILDE 


DAWN   and   Other  One-Act   Plays  of  Life 
Today. 

Dawn  —  The  Noble  Lord  —  The  Traitor  —  A 
House  of  Cards  —  Playing  With  Fire  —  The 
Finger  of  God. 

CONFESSIONAL  and  Other  American  Plays. 

Confessional  —  The  Fillain  in  the  Piece  —  Ac 
cording  to  Darwin  —  A  Question  of  Morality  — 
The  Beautiful  Story. 

THE  UNSEEN  HOST  and  Other  War  Plays. 

The  Unseen  Host  —  Mothers  of  M en  —  Pawns 
—  In  the  Ravine  —  Valkyrie  ! 

EIGHT  COMEDIES  FOR  LITTLE  THEATRES. 

The  Sequel  —  The  Previous  Engagement  —  The 
Dyspeptic  Ogre  —  In  the  Net  —  A  Wonderful 
Woman  —  Catesby  —  His  Return  —  Embryo. 

In  Preparation: 
THE  ONE-ACT  PLAY:    ITS  TECHNIQUE.    A 

Manual. 
THE     INN     OF     DISCONTENT     and     Other 

Fantastic  Plays. 


EIGHT  COMEDIES 
FOR  LITTLE  THEATRES 


BY 


PERCIVAL  WILDE 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1922 


Copyright,  1914,  1920,  1921,  1922, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


reserved,  including  that  of 
translation  ^nto  foreign  languages 


,.    »    •»    ».»•••  

•  •'*••*•    «  » *  *         *  •  -i    v """ 

'  Published  May,  1922 


These  plays,  in  their  printed  form,  are  designed  for  the 
reading  public  only.  All  dramatic,  motion-picture,  and  other 
rights  in  them  are  fully  protected  by  copyright  in  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain,  and  no  performance  —  professional 
or  amateur  —  may  be  given  without  the  written  permission  of 
the  author,  and  the  payment  of  royalty. 

Communications  may  be  addressed  to  the  author  in  care 
of  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  34  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


& 


TO  MY  WIFE 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  SEQUEL 1 

THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 23 

THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 35 

IN  THE  NET 69 

A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 89    I 

CATESBY 119 

His  RETURN 133 

EMBRYO 151 

NOTES  ON  THE  PLAYS            173 


THE   SEQUEL 

A  COMEDY 

Opus  bl 


CHARACTERS 

HE 

SHE 

THE  BUTLER 

HORROCKS,  INC. 


Copyright,  1920, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


THE  SEQUEL 

PROLOGUE 

\_Spoken  by  any  man  who  can  wear  full  dress  becom 
ingly,  generally  The  Butler. 

Do  you  recall  the  situation  on  which  the  curtain 
has  fallen  thousands  of  times  in  thousands  of  well- 
regulated  dramas?  Do  you  remember  how  they  faced 
each  other,  and  how  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes  —  or 
her  eyes  —  or  their  eyes?  Do  you  mentally  picture 
how  he  —  or  she  —  or  they  brushed  the  above-men 
tioned  tears  away?  Or  let  them  remain  where  they 
were?  And  how  she  whispered,  "Yes,  Jack"  —or 
"Yes,  William"  — or  "Yes,  Eliphalet "  —  as  the  case 
might  have  been?  Or  sometimes  only  plain  "Yes?" 
And  how  he,  with  the  expertness  gained  by  many 
rehearsals,  gathered  her  into  his  arms,  and  printed  a 
kiss  on  her  brow  —  or  her  cheek  —  or  her  hair  —  or 
behind  her  ear  —  but  only  in  the  rarest  of  instances 
on  her  lips?  And  how  the  happy  pair,  now  forever 
united  —  until  the  next  performance  —  stood  looking 
out  over  the  footlights,  estimating  the  box-office 
receipts  and  the  amount  of  paper  in  the  house,  until 
the  curtain  fell,  and  the  thoughts  of  the  audience 
turned  to  the  inner  man? 

And  then?  What  happens  next?  There  are  inquisi 
tive  souls  who  ask  that  question.  Will  they  live 
happily  ever  afterward?  Or  will  the  matrimonial  bark 


THE  SEQUEL 


encounter  one  of  the  many  obstacles  which  somehow 
have  been  forgotten?  The  dramatist,  looking  upon 
marriage,  or  its  forerunner,  engagement,  as  the  end  of 
all  things,  neglects  to  tell  us.  Starting  with  a  variable 
number  of  eligible  young  persons  of  opposite  sex,  he 
has  paired  them  off  in  such  combinations  as  his  ex 
perience  tells  him  will  be  pleasing  to  the  magnate  who 
produces  the  play,  to  the  temperamental  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  condescend  to  act  in  it,  and,  last  and 
most  important,  to  that  source  from  which  all  royalties 
flow,  that  unaccountable,  irresponsible,  conscienceless 
creature,  the  audience.  To  the  very  portals  of  marriage 
he  travels  with  his  charges,  but  there  he  leaves  them, 
to  act  as  guide,  philosopher,  friend  to  others  following 
in  their  footsteps. 

And  then?  Perhaps  they  do  not  live  happily  ever 
after.  Perhaps  she  is  extravagant,  or  he  smokes  in 
the  parlor.  Or  he  repents  his  rashness  in  recanting 
bachelorhood,  and  she  reflects,  as  his  faults  become 
plain  to  her,  that  she  might  have  done  better.  And 
they  do  not  increase  and  multiply,  and  are  unhappy, 
and  so  come  to  furnish  material  for  another  play. 

But  of  the  time  between?  Of  the  time  immediately 
after  she  has  said  "Yes"  and  before  she  has  begun  to 
say  "No?" 

[The  person  who  has  spoken  the  prologue  bows  and 
retires.  The  curtain  rises.  It  is  early  evening,  and 
they  are  in  the  parlor  of  her  house.  There  are  heavy 
tapestries  at  the  doors  and  perfectly  opaque  hangings 
at  the  windows  —  which  is  satisfactory,  for  even  in  th  * 
subdued  light  neither  would  welcome  the  inspection  o' 
a  third  person. 


THE  SEQUEL 


HE  (interrupting  his  embrace  for  an  instant  to  hold  her 
off  at  arms'  length  and  look  into  her  eyes) 
Milly! 

SHE  (blushing  prettily) 
Jack! 
[They  embrace  again. 

HE  (after  a  pause) 
So  —  so  you're  going  to  many  me! 

SHE 

Yes,  Jack.     (She  looks  up  at  him  shyly)     Isn't  it 
wonderful?     (He  nods)     To  think  that  we  two  — 

just  we  two (He  kisses  her  again.     There  is 

another  pause)  Come  (she  draws  him  to  a  sofa),  we 
have  so  much  to  say  to  each  other!  Isn't  that  so? 
[He  is  a  little  uneasy;  even  embarrassed.  It  is  easy 
to  see  that  sentiment  is  not  his  forte.  On  the  other 
hand,  she  is  absolutely  at  home.  She  has  spent  a 
considerable  portion  of  her  twenty-odd  years  looking 
forward  to  this  moment.  Now  that  it  has  come  she  is 
completely  mistress  of  the  situation.  He  seats  himself 
on  the  sofa  —  a  little  gingerly  —  not  that  he  is  afraid 
of  hurting  the  sofa,  but  because  his  entire  attitude,  now 
that  the  worst  is  over,  has  become  distinctly  timid; 
because  some  sixth  sense  warns  him  that  he  will  not 
appear  to  his  best  advantage  in  the  nonsensical  half- 
hour  which  is  to  follow,  and  which  by  no  possible 
device  may  be  avoided.  Once  seated  he  recalls  his  duty 
sufficiently  to  put  his  arms  round  her  in  rather  a 
clumsy  fashion.  She,  however,  is  not  satisfied,  and 
releasing  his  clasp,  rises  with  delicious  abandon 
'  '  \Jl8  herself  on  his  lap.  There  is  a  further 


THE  SEQUEL 


HE 

Are  you  comfortable  —  dear? 
SHE 

Perfectly !    Perfectly !    (She  closes  her  eyes  contentedly. 

He,  rather  relieved  that  he  no  longer  has  to  meet  them, 

looks  at  her  sharply.     She  is  rather  a  winsome  bit  of 

femininity,  whether  he  knows  it  or  not.     She  puts  her 

lips  close  to  his  ear)     Jack! 
HE  (starting) 

Yes?     (Correcting  himself)     Yes,  dear? 
SHE 

Now   that   we   are   alone  —  we   are   alone,    aren't 

we? 
HE 

Of  course. 

[He  looks  round  nervously. 

SHE 

There  is  one  thing  I  want  you  to  tell  me. 
HE 
Yes? 

SHE 

Jack,  when  did  you  begin  to  love  me? 
HE  (flushing  uncomfortably) 

Well  — 
SHE  (closing  her  eyes  in  anticipation) 

Yes? 

HE 

When  I  began  to  love  you? 
SHE 

Yes. 
HE  (plunging  in) 

Well,  I  think  it  was  the  first  time  I  met  you. 


THE  SEQUEL 


SHE  (sitting  bolt  upright  in  surprise) 

Jack!    You  don't  mean  it! 
HE 

I  am  quite  sure.    It  was  in  December,  a  year  ago. 
SHE  (surprised) 

What? 
HE  (holding  his  ground) 

Just  after  Christmas. 
SHE 

But  that  wasn't  the  first  time  I  met  you!    It  was 

long  before  that! 
HE 

Was  it? 
SHE  (a  little  disappointed) 

Didn't  you  know  it?     It  was  at  Barton's  house 

party,  Jack. 
HE 

Oh.     (After  a  pause,  ivith  a  sickly  smile)     Barton's 

house  party.     So  it  was! 
SHE 

And  then  the  second  time (sinking  back  into 

his  arms)    When  was  it,  Jack? 
HE 

The  second  time? 
SHE 

Yes. 

HE 

The  time  after  Barton's? 
SHE 

Yes,  Jack. 
HE  (thinking  desperately,  then  turning  on  her  suddenly) 

Don't  you  know? 


8  THE  SEQUEL 


SHE 

Of  course  I  know.     (She  sits  up  slowly)    You  don't 

mean  to  say  you've  forgotten  that  also? 
HE 

I'm  sorry. 
SHE  (indignantly) 

Sorry? 
HE 

I'm  absent-minded,  you  know. 
SHE 

And  you  loved  me  from  the  first  time  we  met! 

(She  rises  in  vexation)    Oh!    And  I  thought  every 
thing  would  be  so  different! 
HE  (also  rising) 

Now,  Milly,  don't  get  angry. 
SHE  (coming  back  to  him) 

I'm  not  angry,  Jack.     I'm  hurt  —  just  hurt. 
HE  (putting  his  arms  round  her) 

I  made  a  mistake,  that's  all.     I  thought  the  first 
"  time  was  later  on. 

SHE 

In  December? 
HE 
Yes. 

SHE 

Where? 

HE 

Eh? 

SHE 

Where  did  we  meet  in  December,  Jack?    Just  after 
Christmas? 


THE  SEQUEL  9 


HE 

It's  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue. 
SHE  (waiting  impatiently) 

Well? 
HE  (triumphantly) 

At  Phelps'!    It  was  at  Phelps'!    You  see,  I  know, 

Milly!    Am  I  right? 
SHE  (capitulating) 

Yes,  Jack.  -lA^T}  \ 

HE 

That  was  the  time !    Father  was  there  too.    You  see, 

I  remember!     You  made  a  hit  with  him.     Coming 

home  together  he   said,   "Jack,   that's   an   awfully 

nice   young  woman.      I'd   like   you   to    know   her 

better." 
SHE 

He  said  that  about  me? 
HE  (nodding  emphatically) 

Why,  that  wasn't  a  marker  to  the  rest  of  the  things 

he  said! 
SHE 

Oh. 

HE 

You  see  (with  a  vapid  smile),  father's  been  wanting 

to  get  me  married  off  for  years. 
SHE  (horrified) 

Oh! 
HE  (slopping  as  if  shot) 

I  haven't  said  anything  wrong,  have  I? 
SHE 

Wrong?     No.     Oh,  no!     (She  smiles  ttith  an  effort) 

Go  on,  Jack. 


10  THE  SEQUEL 


HE  (suspicious) 

Look  here!     I'm  not  offending  you 

SHE  (interrupting) 

Offending?    When  we  haven't  been  engaged  an  hour? 
HE  (not  entirely  reassured) 

Father  told  me  to  be  careful  what  I  said  to-night. 
SHE 

With  your  future  wife,  Jack?     Careful? 
HE  (nodding  soberly) 

He  said  that  if  I  was  in  any  doubt  I  should  talk 

about  him. 
SHE 

Oh!     (She  smiles  sweetly)     Go  on,  Jack. 
HE 

What? 
SHE 

Talk  about  him. 
HE  (after  an  irresolute  pause) 

Well,  father's  a  great  man.     You  know  that. 
SHE 

Everybody  knows  it,  Jack. 
HE 

Of  course!     Father  owns  the  biggest  department 

store  in  town.     Why,  he  started  the  department- 
store  idea!    There  were  no  department  stores  before 

father. 
SHE  (lackadaisically) 

How  intensely  thrilling! 

HE 

His  first  store  —  have  you  ever  seen  a  picture  of  it? 

SHE 

No. 


THE  SEQUEL  11 


HE 

It  wasn't  as  large  as  this  room.  And  to-day  there 
are  more  than  three  thousand  people  working  for 
Horrocks,  Incorporated!  (He  pauses.  She  waits  for 
him  to  continue)  Father  has  to  have  some  one  to 
carry  on  the  business  after  him,  and  it  would  break 
his  heart  to  have  it  go  out  of  the  family.  He  wants 
me  to  grow  into  his  boots. 

SHE   (settling  herself  comfortably;    not,  however,  on  his 
lap)    And  is  that  why  he  wanted  you  to  be  married? 

HE  (smiling) 
Indirectly,  yes.  - 

SHE 

I  don't  understand,  Jack.  —  IttcW&U^Ct 

HE 

You  see,  a  man's  so  much  steadier  when  he's  got  a 
wife. 

SHE  (thoughtfully) 
Y-e-s. 
[There  is  a  pause.  — 

HE 

Well,  I  have  to  be  going. 

[He  rises. 
SHE 
Already? 

HE 

Father'll  be  waiting. 

SHE  (looking  at  him  in  open-eyed  astonishment) 
What  do  you  mean? 

HE 

He'll  want  to  know  what  happened. 


THE  SEQUEL 


SHE  (trying  to  grasp  the  idea) 

What  happened? 
HE 

Whether  you  said  yes  or  no. 
SHE  (with  sudden  comprehension) 

Oh!    So  he  knew  you  were  going  to  ask  me? 
HE 

Of  course! 
SHE 

You  told  him? 
HE  (hesitantly) 


. 

SHE  (furiously) 

You  had  the  aud  ---   (With  hardly  a  break  she 

continues  in  the  most  honeyed  tones)  or  perhaps  he 

told  you?     (Delilahlike  slic  throws  her  arms  about  his 

neck)     Come,  'fess  up! 
HE  (with  a  broad  smile) 

Well,  he  said:    "If  you  haven't  asked  her  before 

morning  -       (He  pauses) 
SHE  (encouragingly) 

Yes? 
HE  (laughing) 

He  said,  "  -  you  can  go  to  work  for  ten  dollars 

a  week." 

SHE 

So  —  you  asked  her? 
HE  (with  a  guffaw) 

Well,  what  do  you  think? 
SHE 

And  you  knew  she'd  accept? 


THE  SEQUEL  13 


HE  (chuckling) 

We-ell  

SHE  (mimicking  him) 

\Ve-ell  

HE 

I  wasn't  sure. 
SHE 
No? 

HE 

But  father  was! 
SHE  (flinging  him  off) 

You  little  beast! 
HE  (surprised) 

Milly!    Now  I  haven't  offended  you  again,  have  I? 
SHE 

Offended  me!    Ha! 
HE 

It's  only  my  way  of  talking.    I  don't  mean  anything 

by  it  

SHE  (interrupting) 

No;    I  didn't  think  so.  '  r     I 

[She  flounces  off  to  the  end  of  the  room.    -  *»  c**v^ 
HE 

Now,  Milly! 

[There  is  a  pause.    Then  she  returns,  with  her  feelings 

under  control  again. 
SHE 

I  was  only  fooling,  Jack.    Tell  me  more  about  it. 

HE 

Not  if  you're  so  touchy,  Milly. 
SHE 
Touchy?    No.    I'm  just  a  little  excited,  that's  all. 


14  THE  SEQUEL 


Don't  you  think  any  girl  would  be  if  she  knew  she 
was  going  to  marry  the  son  of  Horrocks,  Incorpo 
rated? 

HE  (after  an  uncertain  pause) 
Father's  waiting  for  me. 

SHE 

Let  him  wait.     It's  only  ten. 
HE  (shaking  his  head  vigorously) 

Father  likes  to  get  to  bed  early.     You  see,  he's 

always  at  the  store  when  it  opens;  makes  it  a  point 

to  be  the  first  one  down. 
SHE 

But  to-night,  Jack  —  he  won't  mind  staying  up  a 

little  later  to-night.    (As  he  dissents)    You  have  only 

a  block  to  go. 
HE  (hesitantly) 

I  don't  know.    Father  said  

SHE  (interrupting) 

We'll  write  him  a  note,  Jack. 
HE 

A  note? 

SHE 

<       Explain  matters.    I'll  send  it  round  with  the  butler. 

HE 

Father  mightn't  like  it. 

SHE 

He'll  have  to  give  in  to  me  this  once!     (She  has 
already  seated  herself  at  a  writing  table)    He'll  be  up, 
won't  he? 
HE  (gloomily) 
You  bet  he  will!    At  any  rate,  till  I  get  home. 


15 


SHE 

Ring  the  bell  for  Robert. 

[He   does    so,    and    remains    at    the    door    watching 

her. 
HE 

What  are  you  writing? 
SHE  (rismg  with  the  note  and  folding  it) 

Finished  already! 
HE 

It  can't  be  very  long. 
SHE 

It  doesn't  have  to  be  —  dear. 

[She  slips  the  note  into  its  envelope. 
THE  BUTLER  (appearing  in  the  doorway) 

Yes,  miss? 
SHE  (handing  him  the  note) 

Take  this  right  over  to  Mr.   Horrocks.     Take  it 

over  yourself. 

THE   BUTLER 

Yes,  miss.    Any  answer? 
SHE 

No.     Just  give  it  to  Mr.  Horrocks  himself.     And 

hurry,  Robert. 

[The  butler  goes. 
HE  (uneasily) 

I  don't  know  how  he'll  like  it. 
SHE 

Leave  it  to  me,  Jack.    Come,  sit  down.     (She  puts 

her  hand  over  his  lips  as  he  tries  to  speak)     Just 

think;    all  the  questions  I'm  dying  to  ask  you! 

HE 

Questions  ?    What  questions  ? 


16  CHE  SEQUEIj 


SHE 

You're  not  afraid  to  answer  me,  are  you? 

HE  (with  a  dismal  attempt  at  humor) 

I  thought  that  didn't  come  till  you  were  married. 

SHE 

That's  still  some  distance  away,  Jack.  (She  looks 
at  him  keenly)  You're  twenty-six,  aren't  you?  (He 
nods)  And  your  father's  been  anxious  to  have  you 
married? 

HE 

Ever  since  I  left  college. 
SHE 

Oh.  (She  pauses  an  instant;  then,  making  a  shrewd 
guess)  Jack,  what  is  her  name? 

HE 

What  do  you  mean? 
SHE 

You  know  what  I  mean. 
HE  (slowly  comprehending,  shocked) 

Milly!    That's  nothing  for  you! 
SHE 

But   I'm   engaged,   Jack.     And  engaged   girls   can 

discuss  all  kinds  of  subjects.    (As  he  shakes  his  head) 

But  they  do!    Particularly  with  their  fiances. 

(He    is    unconvinced)     Jack,    if  we  can't  have  full 

confidence  in  each  other  now 

[She  breaks  off. 
HE  (after  a  pause) 

Who  told  you? 
SHE  (concealing  her  triumph) 

That's  not  a  fair  question. 


THE  SEQUEL  17 


HE 

Why  not? 

SHE 

Oh,  the  things  that  girls  talk  about  

[She  waves  her  hand  vaguely. 
HE  (interested) 

Yes? 
SHE  (irith  a  happy  inspiration) 

The  things  that  married  men  tell  their  wives 

HE 

Oh. 

SHE 

And  the  wives  tell  their  sisters,  and  the  sisters  tell 
then-  best  friends,  and  the  best  friends  tell  every 
body  else.  Women  can't  keep  secrets  —  you  know 
that. 

HE 

Yes. 
SHE  (after  a  judicious  pause,  quite  casually) 

What  show  is  she  with  now,  Jack? 
HE  (thoughtlessly) 

She's  not  working  just  now. 

[Suddenly  recollecting,  he  bends  a  suspicious  glance 

on  her,  but  her  expression  is  innocence  itself. 
SHE  (addressing  her  remarks  to  the  ceiling) 

Such  a  pity!     (She  pauses;   he  is  still  watching  her) 

She  has  talent;    there's  no  doubt  of  that. 
HE 

How  do   you   know  that  if   you   don't  know  her 

name? 
SHE  (bluffing  desperately) 

Why,  I've  seen  her! 


18  THE  SEQUEL 


HE  (incredulously) 

Seen  her? 
SHE  (meeting  his  glance  naively) 

She  was  the  fourth  from  the  right,  wasn't  she? 
HE 

No;  the  second. 

[Still  uneasy,  he  pauses  again. 
SHE 

You  see,  I  know. 
HE 

And  you  don't  feel  differently  toward  me  on  account 

of  it? 
SHE  (laughing) 

Differently?     How  absurd,  Jack!     I  never  thought 

you  were  an  angel. 
HE  (quite  reassured) 

She's  a  lady  —  a  real  lady  —  much  too  good  for 

that  sort  of  thing.    . 
SHE 

I  could  see  that  from  where  I  was  sitting. 
HE 

Her  real  name's  Eliza,  but  she  calls  herself  Corinne. 
SHE 

I  don't  blame  her.    Corinne  is  a  pretty  name.    (With 

a  covert  look  at  him)    And  she's  just  as  good-hearted 

as  she's  beautiful,  isn't  she,  Jack? 
HE 

How  did  you  know? 
SHE  (proceeding  fluently) 

She  has  talent  —  real  talent  —  only  they  haven't 

recognized  it  yet.    But  they're  going  to  some  day! 


THE  SEQUEL  19 


All  she  needs  is  a  chance  to  make  good !    And  you're 

going  to  see  that  she  gets  it,  aren't  you,  Jack? 
HE  (enthusiastically) 

You  bet  I  am! 
SHE  (nodding  sagely) 

She's  been  unfortunate,  but  she's  a  lady  through  it 

all.     And  no  affectation,  no  airs  about  her.     She's 

an  awfully  good  little  sport  —  a  real  pal !     Only 

your  father  can't  see  it  that  way. 
HE  (astonished) 

Did  he  tell  you  about  her? 
SHE  (without  answering) 

That  was  why  he  was  so  anxious  to  get  you  married. 

He  wanted  you  safe  —  away  from  her. 
HE 

You  knew  all  along? 
SHE 

And  never  let  on! 
HE  (delightedly) 

Well!    Well!    I  can  hardly  believe  it! 

SHE 

I  wanted  you  to  tell  me. 
HE  (with  real  enthusiasm) 

Say,  we're  going  to  get  along! 
SHE 

Aren't  we  though? 
HE 

Milly,  you're  a  good  little  sport  yourself! 
SHE 

Do  you  really  think  so? 
HE 

I  never  would  have  believed  it  of  you! 


20  THE  SEQUEL 


SHE 

Thanks.    Thanks,  Jack.    And  do  you  want  to  know 
something  else?     I'm  not  even  going  to  make  you 
give  her  up. 
HE  (astonished) 
What? 

SHE 

Spoil  a  beautiful  friendship?     No,  Jack.     I'm  not 
like  your  father.    I  know  what  it  means  to  you.    I 
appreciate  such  things. 
HE 
Milly! 

SHE 

Are  you  shocked? 

HE 

Do  you  mean  it?    Do  you  honestly  mean  it? 
\_She  tries  to  answer,  but  it  is  too  much  for  her  sense  of 
humor.     She  bursts  into  almost  hysterical  laughter. 

HE  (rising  anxiously) 
Milly! 

SHE  (between  spasms) 

You  don't  understand  me,  do  you,  Jack?  But  your 
father  will!  You  can  be  sure  of  that!  (He  watches 
her  in  absolute  mystification)  Because  he's  coming 
here,  Jack!  I  am  expecting  him  at  any  moment. 

HE  (thunderstruck) 

Coming  here?  Is  that  what  you  wrote?  You 
didn't  have  the  nerve! 

SHE 

But  I  did,  Jack! 

HE 

You  shouldn't  have  done  it!    He'll  be  angry.    Good 


THE  SEQUEL  21 


Lord,  he'll  be  angry !  He  never  goes  out  at  this  time 
of  night!  Hasn't  for  years! 

SHE 
Listen ! 

[Footsteps  —  hurried  footsteps  —  are  heard  ascending 
the  stairs,  and  THE  BUTLER,  not  the  sedate,  punctilious 
butler  of  a  few  minutes  ago,  but  a  panting,  very  much 
frightened  butler,  who  has  not  even  paused  to  remove 
his  hat  and  coat,  stands  in  the  doorway. 

THE  BUTLER  (announcing  hastily) 
Mr.  Horrocks! 

[There  is  a  rush.  The  Butter  is  swept  aside  and 
Horrocks,  Inc.,  stands  in  his  place.  And  Horrocks,  Inc., 
is  angry,  angry  with  capital  letters,  angrier  than  either 
he  or  anybody  else  has  been  before.  The  small  eyes  of 
the  department-store  genius  dart  lightnings,  his  hands 
tremble,  his  lips  move,  but  no  words  known  to  the  English 
language  issue  from  them.  Yet  he  is  a  mass  of  sounds 
—  explosive  sounds,  sibilant  sounds,  rumbling  sounds; 
such  sounds  as  might  come  from  a  small  volcano  imme 
diately  before  the  eruption:  such  sounds  as  might 
result  were  an  intoxicated  Zulu,  holding  a  spoonful  of 
hot  mush  in  his  mouth  the  while,  to  attempt  a  Russian 
folk-song  set  to  music  by  Claude  Debussy.  Were  an 
artist  present  he  might  ask  Horrocks,  Inc.,  to  pose  as 
the  God  of  Anger.  And,  most  disrespectfully,  Miily 
continues  to  laugh  still  more  hysterically  than  ever. 

HE  (petrified  with  terror) 
Father! 

[Horrocks,  Inc.,  rushes  at  him  as  if  he  would  brain 
him.  But  the  clenched  fist  stops  under  the  young  man's 
nose,  and,  for  the  first  time,  one  notices  that  it  brandishes 
a  crumpled  sheet  of  paper. 


THE  SEQUEL 


HE  (taking  it,  panic-stricken) 
Wh-what  she  wrote  you? 
[Horrocks,  Inc.,  assents  with  frightful  noises. 

HE  (backing  away) 
May  I  read  it? 

[Horrocks,  Inc.,  assents  as  before.  More  than  that, 
his  terrific  gestures  indicate  that  he  emphatically  desires 
the  young  man  to  read  it  —  to  read  it  aloud. 

HE  (still  retreating  from  the  impending  destruction) 
"Dear  Mister  Department  Store  "     (With  in 
credulous  appeal)     You  wrote  that,  Milly? 

HORROCKS,  INC.  (at  length  forming  intelligible  words) 
Go  on!    Go  on! 

HE 

"Please  call  for  goods  to  be  returned." 
[Horror-stricken,  he  turns  to  the  spot  where,  an  instant 
ago,  Milly  was  standing.     But  she  has  vanished. 
The  Butler,  too,  has  fled.    And  squarely  between  himself 
and  the  door  stands  the  fearful  figure  of  Horrocks,  Inc. 

THE  CURTAIN  FALLS  GENTLY 


THE  PREVIOUS 
ENGAGEMENT 

A  COMEDY  IN  ONE  ACT 
FOR  ONE  PERSON 


THE   CHARACTER 

ULYSSES  GRANT  HOLLISTEB 


Copyright,  19U, 

BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 

New  material  added  and 

Copyright,  1922, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

In  one  of  his  writings  Mr.  Henry  Arthur  Jones  speaks  of 
the  difficulty  of  avoiding  the  soliloquy.  This  comedy  is  a 
more  or  less  flippant  demonstration  of  some  of  the  ways  in 
which  this  may  be  accomplished. 

The  living  room  of  a  modestly  furnished  bachelor's 
apartment  in  a  not  too  fashionable  apartment  house.  As 
is  customary  in  such  buildings,  an  interior  telephone, 
communicating  with  the  outside  world  through  the  medium 
of  the  apartment  switchboard,  is  fastened  to  the  wall.  And 
the  occupant,  rather  extravagantly,  has  had  a  direct  line 
telephone  installed  besides,  and  this  instrument  rests  an  a 
table. 

At  the  rear,  a  door  opens  on  a  hallway.  At  the  right, 
another  door  opens  into  the  bedroom.  A  third  door,  at 
the  left,  leads  into  a  kitchenette,  an  excessively  diminutive 
room  almost  entirely  filled  by  the  range.  Next  to  the 
door  of  the  kitchenette  is  the  opening  of  the  dumb-waiter, 
which,  at  intervals,  can  be  heard  making  noisy  trips  up 
and  down. 

In  the  main  room,  a  large  grandfather's  clock,  not 
running,  as  seen  by  the  stationary  pendulum,  indicates 
five  o'clock.  The  bright  sunshine  through  the  little  window 
tucked  into  the  left  corner,  the  general  quiet  of  the  day,  and 
an  occasional  sound  of  church  bells  in  the  distance  go  to 
show  that  it  is  Sunday  morning. 

There  is  a  pause.     The  occupant  is  asleep  in  his  bed- 


26          THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

room,  and  a  raucous  snore  is  audible.  Then,  without 
warning,  the  dumb-waiter  rope  commences  to  lash  the  sides 
of  the  shaft  vigorously  and  loudly.  The  snoring  ceases, 
and  the  tenant,  wearing  a  flowered  dressing  gown  over  a 
suit  of  pyjamas,  enters  from  the  right. 

He  is  thirty-one  or  two,  and  by  no  means  a  bad  looking 
chap.  And  he  yawns  prodigiously  as  he  pushes  his 
tousled  hair  out  of  his  eyes  and  opens  the  door  to  the 
dumb-waiter. 

HOLLISTER 

All  right,  all  right !  I  heard  you.  Send  up  the  things. 
(The  dumb-waiter  rattles,  and  he  produces  two  eggs  and 
a  quart  of  milk.  He  inspects  the  eggs  carefully;  then 
returns  to  the  shaft) 

Hello!  You  there?  Are  those  eggs  the  biggest  you've 
got?  (A  pause)  I  don't  believe  those  eggs  were  ever 
near  a  hen!  They're  humming-bird's  eggs,  that's 
what  they  are!  (He  closes  the  door  of  the  dumb 
waiter  shaft  noisily,  and  crosses  to  the  rear  door,  which 
he  opens.  Between  his  door  and  the  door  of  his  neigh 
bor's  apartment,  is  a  heap  of  Sunday  newspapers.  He 
selects  his  own,  and,  in  the  act  of  reentering  his  room, 
pauses  to  listen  to  his  neighbor's  movements) 
George!  (He  raps  on  the  door)  Are  you  up,  George? 
.  .  .  George,  you're  a  pretty  good  skate,  aren't  you? 
.  .  .  Well,  have  you  any  idea  what's  good  for  the 
morning  after?  (He  listens)  Oh,  you  know  I  never 
drink,  but  last  night  was  different.  There  was  a 
reason  for  it.  (He  listens  again)  No;  no  wine.  Just 
whiskey.  About  five  times  three  fingers.  That  was 
enough;  more  than  enough!  You  know  I'm  not 
used  to  it.  (A  large  collie  comes  barking  down  the  hall- 


THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT         27 

way.  He  interrupts  his  conversation  to  "shoo"  the 
dog  into  his  room)  Get  in  there,  Buster!  .  .  .  What 
did  you  say,  George?  (He  smiles  broadly)  Well, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  needed  my  nerve  last  night: 
all  the  nerve  I  had,  and  just  a  little  bit  more.  That's 
why  I  did  it.  ...  What's  that?  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  . 
Yes.  .  .  .  Thanks.  You're  sure  that'll  fix  me  up? 
.  .  Yes?  Well,  there's  no  harm  in  trying  it.  Thanks, 
George.  (He  reenters  the  room,  closes  the  door,  and 
goes  directly  to  the  interior  telephone) 
Hello!  Who's  at  the  switchboard?  Julius?  Well, 
Julius,  go  around  the  corner  and  get  a  bottle  of 
ginger  ale  —  domestic  ginger  ale  and  two  limes.  .  .  . 
Yes,  limes.  Send  them  up  on  the  dumb-waiter. 
(He  hangs  up  the  receiver,  but  takes  it  off  again  as  an 
afterthought  strikes  him)  Wait  a  minute,  Julius! 
What  time  is  it?  .  .  .  You  don't  really  mean  it !  .  .  . 
That  so?  Thanks.  (He  hangs  up,  crosses  slowly  to 
the  clock,  and  turns  the  hands  to  eleven  thirty-five.  The 
clock  strikes  three.  He  looks  at  it  in  an  instant's 
confusion,  then  shakes  his  head,  and  sinks  painfully 
into  a  chair.  The  dog,  wagging  his  tail  furiously, 
rushes  to  him.  The  young  man  takes  the  dog's  head 
between  his  hands,  and  addresses  him  seriously) 
Buster,  I'm  a  chump!  You  didn't  know  that,  did 
you,  Buster?  (The  dog  wags  his  tail,  but  gives  no 
other  sign  of  assent)  Well,  I  am!  I  didn't  have 
the  nerve  to  propose  to  a  girl  last  night,  even  though 
I  knew  she'd  have  me;  even  though  I  knew  that 
the  moment  I  said,  "Will  you  marry  me?"  she'd 
throw  her  arms  around  my  neck  and  nearly  strangle 
me!  I  got  as  far  as  her  door,  and  then  —  then 


28         THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

I  thought  of  her  sitting  in  there  on  the  sofa,  with 
a  sort  of  expectant  look  on  her  face,  and  the 
lights  low,  and  —  and  my  knees  began  to  shiver, 
and  I  thought  I'd  better  have  a  drink  first.  So 
I  had  the  drink  —  whiskey  —  plain  whiskey,  mind 
you,  with  nothing  intoxicating  mixed  in  it!  Then 
I  came  back,  and  I  didn't  feel  a  bit  better!  —  not 
a  bit  better  than  before!  I  didn't  have  the  nerve 
to  propose  to  a  lamp-post !  So  I  had  another  drink  — 
plain  whiskey — and  it  didn't  seem  to  help;  so  I 
took  another;  and  another;  and  still  another  — 
quite  a  flock  of  drinks  —  until  I  began  to  lose  count. 
(He  pauses  tragically) 

Well,  you  know  I'm  not  used  to  drinking,  Buster,  and 
after  half  an  hour  of  it  I  had  enough  nerve  to  pro 
pose  to  the  Queen  of  England!  So  I  marched  out, 
head  up  in  the  air,  shoulders  thrown  back,  and  I 
was  going  to  ask  her  to  marry  me,  just  like  that! 
Not  the  Queen  of  England:  the  girl,  you  know. 
I  remember  that  very  well.  But  when  I  wanted 
to  find  her  door  again,  I  couldn't!  I  couldn't  find 
her  door,  Buster!  And  it's  really  not  a  very  hard 
door  to  find!  (He  smiles  reminiscently) 
That's  about  the  last  thing  I  remember,  Buster. 
I  stood  there  in  the  street,  and  I  reasoned  the  thing 
out  for  myself.  I  decided  she  must  have  moved  — 
must  have  moved  right  after  I  took  that  second 
drink.  I  remember  I  said  to  myself  "This  is  so 
sudden!"  you  know,  her  moving  like  that.  (He 
pauses,,  and  raises  his  hands  to  his  head  unth  a  groan) 
Buster,  it's  all  a  blank  after  that!  —  all  a  blank! 
I  might  have  murdered  somebody  on  the  way  home 


THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT          29 

—  I  don't  know.  I  had  nerve  enough  to  do  anything. 
I  was  full  of  nerve!  Proposing  would  have  been  a 
cinch!  But  I  couldn't  find  the  girl!  I  couldn't  find 
the  girl!  (The  dumb-waiter  rope  rattles.  He  goes  to 
it,  appearing  an  instant  later  with  the  ginger  ale,  which 
he  proceeds  to  pour  into  a  glass,  and  the  limes,  which 
he  crushes  into  it.  He  drinks  it  slowly) 
Awful  stuff,  Buster;  awful.  But  it's  good  for  Daddy. 
Here's  to  her!  (He  tosses  of  what  is  left  in  the  glass, 
and  searches  among  a  large  number  of  photographs 
which  decorate  the  center  table) 

This  is  her  picture,  Buster.  Buster,  this  is  Miss  Ed 
munds.  Grace,  this  is  Buster.  (He  shakes  the  dog's 
paw  gravely)  Grace  Edmunds  —  isn't  that  a  pretty 
name?  But  Grace  Edmunds  Hollister  is  prettier, 
isn't  it?  If  I  ever  have  the  nerve  to  ask  her! 
[From  some  nearby  apartment  come  the  strains  of  the 
"Toreador  Song,"  atrociously  rendered  on  a  broken- 
winded  phonograph.  He  listens,  humming  the  air, 
but  suddenly  breaks  off  to  bring  his  fist  into  his  palm 
with  a  resounding  thump. 

Say,  Buster!  (He  disappears  into  the  next  room,  re 
turning  in  an  instant  with  an  old-fashioned  cylindrical- 
record  phonograph)  First  aid  to  cowards,  Buster! 
(He  sits  at  the  table  and  writes  hurriedly)  Buster, 
how  do  you  spell  "tendency?"  "\Yith  an  "a"  or  with 
an  "e"?  (He  smiles)  But  it  really  doesn't  matter, 
does  it?  (He  reads  over  what  he  has  written,  sets  the 
phonograph  going,  clears  his  throat  impressively,  and 
speaks  into  the  horn) 

Grace  —  may  I  call  you  Miss  Edmunds?  No!  You 
know  what  I  mean :  Miss  Edmunds  —  may  I  call 


30         THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

you  Grace?  I  am  thirty-one  years  old,  high-school 
education,  perfectly  healthy,  except  for  a  tendency 
to  water  on  the  knee;  I  have  a  good  position,  good 
prospects,  no  relatives  living,  can  support  a  wife, 
belong  to  the  Baptist  Church,  and  love  you!  Will 
you  marry  me?  Respectfully  yours,  Ulysses  Grant 
Hollister.  (Stopping  the  phonograph)  How's  that, 
Buster?  (He  resets  the  instrument:  starts  it  going 
again) 

THE  PHONOGRAPH 
A-hem!  A-hem! 

HOLLISTER  (interrupting) 
I  never  said  that! 

THE    PHONOGRAPH 

Grace  —  may  I  call  you  Miss  Edmunds?  No!  You 
know  what  I  mean :  Miss  Edmunds,  may  I  call  you 
Grace?  I  am  thirty-one  years  old,  high-school  edu 
cation,  perfectly  healthy,  except  for  a  tendency  to 
water  on  the  knee;  I  have  a  good  position,  good 
prospects,  no  relatives  living,  can  support  a  wife, 
belong  to  the  Baptist  Church,  and  love  you ! 
Will  you  marry  me?  Respectfully  yours,  Ulysses 
Grant  Hollister.  How's  that,  Buster? 

HOLLISTER 

Fine!  (He  allows  the  machine  to  run  a  few  seconds 
longer.  Then,  very  expressively)  Thank  you,  dearest ! 
I  knew  you  would !  (He  stops  the  phonograph,  fastens 
on  the  wooden  top,  and  goes  to  the  interior  telephone) 
Hello!  Hello!  .  .  .  Julius,  I'm  sending  a  phonograph 
down  on  the  dumb-waiter.  .  .  .  What?  .  .  .  A  phon 
ograph:  a  talking  machine.  I  want  you  to  take  it 
right  around  to  Miss  Edmunds.  ...  Yes;  of  course 


THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT          31 

you  know  where  she  lives:  I've  sent  you  there  before. 
.  .  .  Give  it  to  Miss  Edmunds  herself:  nobody  else 
will  do,  and  tell  her  to  play  the  record  right  away. 
.  .  .  Yes,  the  moment  she  gets  it.  What?  .  .  . 
Does  she  like  music?  (smiling  happily)  Well, 
she'll  like  this  selection!  .  .  .  No;  it's  not  grand 
opera:  it's  something  better.  Live  and  learn, 
Julius;  live  and  learn.  (An  afterthought)  I'm  send 
ing  down  half  a  dollar  for  you,  Julius.  Keep  it. 
(He  hangs  up,  waltzes  gaily  to  the  table  with  the  phono 
graph,  and  deposits  it  on  the  dumb-waiter)  Don't  drop 
it,  Julius!  (He  sits,  and  takes  the  dog's  head  between 
his  knees) 

Were  you  ever  in  love,  Buster?  Well,  try  it!  It's 
great!  (He  pauses)  Julius  is  just  starting  now.  (He 
walks  the  length  of  the  room  twice,  very  deliberately) 
Now  he's  reached  her  door.  (In  dumb  show,  he  times 
Juliu-s*  jjiovements.  He  climbs  imaginary  steps; 
rings  an  imaginary  doorbell;  waits;  shifts  an  imaginary 
phonograph  from  one  hand  to  another;  rings  the  bell 
again.  Finally  the  imaginary  door  is  opened.  He 
explains  his  errand  to  the  maid;  declines  to  give  her  the 
phonograph;  will  give  it  to  Miss  Edmimds  personally; 
waits  in  anticipation.  Enter  Miss  Edmunds.  He 
bows  and  scrapes;  delivers  the  imaginary  phonograph 
and  message;  grins;  exits,  descending  the  imaginary 
flight  of  steps  after  closing  the  imaginary  door) 
Now  she's  got  it!  (A  pause,  accompanied  with  suitable 
dm7ib  show)  She's- playing  it!  Will  she  say  "Yes?" 
(He  leans  over  and  picks  objects  from  the  dog"s  pelt) 
She  loves  me;  she  loves  me  not;  she  loves  me;  she 
loves  me  not;  she  loves — (breaking  of)  This 


32         THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

would  take  too  long,  Buster.  (He  takes  up  the  photo 
graph)  Allow  me  to  introduce  the  future  Mrs. 
Hollister!  (He  waits  at  the  telephone)  Getting  im 
patient,  boy?  Well,  so  am  I!  Now,  all  together! 
One!  Two!  Three! 

(The  interior  telephone  rings  sharply)  Ah!  (He  takes 
down  the  receiver)  Hello!  Julius  not  back  yet?  No? 
.  .  .  Well,  what  do  you  want?  (He  turns  to  the  dog) 
A  lady  to  speak  to  me?  Who  is  it?  ..  .  Eh?  I 
expect  it?  She  says  I  expect  the  call?  Put  her  on. 
(He  does  a  war-dance  at  the  receiver) 
Hello!  .  .  .  Yes,  right  here,  dearest.  .  .  .  Dear 
est!  ...  What?  .  .  .  You  were  surprised?  Well, 
I  don't  wonder!  Most  any  girl  would  have  been 
surprised  under  the  circumstances!  .  .  .  You  must 
have  thought  I  was  crazy!  .  .  .  Ha!  Ha!  You 
did?  .  .  .  (In  immense  surprise)  What?  .  .  .What? 
You  —  you  thought  I  had  been  drinking?  How 
could  you  tell?  (Utterly  bewildered)  Oh,  of  course 
I  remember,  but  tell  me  about  it  again.  .  .  .  Yes, 
I  like  to  hear  it.  ...  Eh?  ...  I  dashed  into  your 
house  —  dashed  into  your  house  last  night?  .  .  . 
Yes,  I  hear  you  quite  plainly.  ...  I  asked  you  to 
marry  me?  ...  I  kissed  you  twice?  .  .  .  Cer 
tainly!  I  wouldn't  forget  that!  How  could  I?  ... 
And  then?  ...  I  gave  you  a  ring  and  I  rushed  out 
again?  .  .  .  Well,  I'm  jiggered!  (He  turns  to  the 
dog)  Buster,  she  accepted  me  last  night,  and  I  didn't 
know  it!  (Turning  again  to  the  telephone)  Yes, 
dearest?  .  .  .  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much!  .  .  . 
More  than  that!  .  .  .  Oh,  much  more  than  that! 
Why,  I  love  you  more  than  .  .  .  (The  second  tele- 


THE   PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT          33 

phone  rings)  I  love  you  more  than  .  .  .  (The  tele 
phone  continues  to  ring)  Just  hold  the  wire  a  minute! 
(He  takes  up  the  second  telephone) 
Hello!  What?  Who  is  this?  (Thunderstruck) 
Grace?  But  it  can't  be  Grace!  .  .  .  What?  .  .  . 
(With  sudden  coolness)  All  right,  I  won't  call  you 
by  your  first  name  if  you  don't  want  me  to.  ... 
Yes,  I  sent  it.  I  sent  the  phonograph.  .  .  .  No: 
no:  it  wasnt  a  fool  thing  to  do (Emphati 
cally)  I  say  it  wasn't  a  f ool  thing  to  do !  .  .  .  What? 
You  were  never  so  humiliated  in  your  life?  What 
do  you  mean?  .  .  .  (After  a  ghastly  pause)  Well, 
how  was  I  to  know  that  you  would  set  the  darned 
thing  going  before  a  roomful  of  people?  (Indignantly) 
I  thought  you'd  have  more  sense  than  that !  .  .  .  (In 
terrupting)  I'm  not  impertinent !  .  .  .  But  look  here, 
Grace  .  .  .  yes,  Miss  Edmunds  .  .  .  I'm  listening: 
yes,  listening.  .  .  .  What?  ...  to  -me?  .  .  .  (With 
sudden  craftiness)  If  I  don't  apologize  —  apolo 
gize  humbly  you'll  never  speak  to  me  again  as  long 
as  you  live?  (Looking  at  the  other  telephone)  Hold 
the  wire!  .  .  .  Just  hold  the  wire  a  minute!  (He 
rises,  takes  up  the  collection  of  photographs,  and  de 
posits  one  next  to  the  telephone  over  which  Grace  has 
been  talking.  He  approaches  the  other  telephone,  and 
examines  the  remaining  photographs.  He  is  absolutely 
unable  to  select  the  proper  one.  He  hesitates:  the  un 
certainty  is  awful.  Then,  resolutely,  he  takes  up  the 
first  receiver) 

Hello!  .  .  .  Yes,  dearest.  Only  a  business  call.  .  .  . 
No,  not  important,  but  it's  a  nuisance,  isn't  it? 
(He  listens)  Oh,  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you!  ...  I 


4          THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

love  everything  about  you!  Your  eyes!  Your  lips! 
Your  hair!  (With  trepidation)  Even  —  even  your 
name!  .  .  .  Yes,  I  love  it!  (Violently  agitated) 
Let  me  hear  you  say  it  yourself!  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  . 
What?  .  .  .  Oh,  it's  a  whim  of  mine,  but  I  love  to 
hear  you  say  it!  ...  Yes?  .  .  .  (He  listens  with 
fearful  anxiety.  Then,  with  sudden  and  overwhelming 
relief,  surprise,  joy:)  Ethel!  (In  the  wildest  of 
raptures)  That's  the  best  news  I've  heard  in  many 
a  day!  .  .  .  Oh,  don't  mind  what  I'm  saying.  I'm 
excited.  .  .  .  Listen:  listen,  Ethel  darling:  I'll 
be  over  in  five  minutes!  .  .  .  You'll  be  ready?  .  .  . 
Fine !  Goodby ,  dearest  !  (He  hangs  up,  rises, 
selects  one  of  the  photographs  in  his  hand  with  obvious 
satisfaction.  The  others  he  throws  away  contemptu 
ously.  His  eye  lights  on  the  other  telephone.  He  grins; 
takes  up  Grace's  picture;  compares  it  with  Ethel's  to 
Grace's  obvious  disadvantage.  Then,  in  the  most 
leisurely  manner,  he  seats  himself  at  Grace's  telephone) 
Hello!  Miss  Edmunds?  .  .  .  You're  waiting  for 
me  to  apologize?  .  .  .  Well,  I  do  apologize.  I  apol 
ogize  most  humbly.  I  made  a  mistake.  .  .  .(There 
is  an  appreciable  pause)  No;  not  to-day.  .  .  . 
nor  to-morrow  .  .  .  nor  the  next  day.  You  see, 
I'm  dated  up  for  some  time  to  come. 
[He  pitches  her  picture  into  the  wastebasket. 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 
A  MODERNIZED  FAIRY  PLAY 

Opiu67 


CHARACTERS 

THE  OGRE 
THE  OGRE'S  COOK 
FRANCES 

THE  MONDAY  DINNER 
THE  TUESDAY  DINNER 
THE  WEDNESDAY  DINNER 
THE  THURSDAY  DINNER 
THE  FRIDAY  DINNER 
THE  SATURDAY  DINNER 
THE  SUNDAY  DINNER 
THE  PRINCIPAL  BOY  SCOUT 
THE  OTHER  BOY  SCOUTS 

and 
THE  JESTER 


Copyright,  1922, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

Before  the  curtains  part  a  Jester,  with  cap  and  bells 
and  stick,  enters  at  one  side,  comes  to  the  cent  of  the 
stage,  and  bows  deeply  to  the  audience. 

THE  JESTER 

Ladies  and  gentlemen:  This  is  a  fairy  play;  a 
fairy  play  all  about  an  Ogre  who  lived  in  a  Castle 
in  the  Calabrian  Mountains  (wherever  they  may  be) 
in  the  Steenth  Century.  The  Steenth  Century,  by 
the  way,  began  ever  so  many  years  ago,  and  by  a 
most  remarkable  coincidence,  ended  exactly  one 
hundred  years  later.  Of  course  the  Ogre  is  dead 
now;  he  died  of  acute  indigestion  one  day  after 
eating  a  particularly  hearty  lunch;  but  he  was 
very  much  alive  then!  Indeed  he  was! 

Now  an  Ogre  is  a  person  who  dines  ex-clu-sive-ly 
on  human  flesh  (which  is  a  very  bad  habit);    but 
this  Ogre  is  not  like  other  Ogres:    not  at  all.     In 
deed,  he  might  be  called  an  Ogre  because  nothing 
but  human  flesh  O— grees  with  him. 
\_The  curtains  part  an  inch  or  two,  and  a  little  girl 
taps  the  Jester  on  the  back. 
THE  JESTER  (to  the  audwnce) 

Excuse  me  a  minute.  (He  converses  with  the  little 
girl  in  earnest  dumb  show.  She  disappears,  and  he 
turns  to  the  audience)  She  says  I  mustn't  tell  you 


38  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

too  much  about  our  play,  because  if  I  did  I  might 
spoil  it  all.  But  I  must  say  this:  (with  great  pre 
caution  that  the  actors  behind  the  curtains  shall  not 
overhear  him,  he  whispers  to  the  audience)  don't  be 
afraid  that  the  Ogre's  going  to  eat  her!  By  no 
means!  Of  course,  I  know  that  it  looks  as  if  that 
were  going  to  happen.  But  don't  let  it  upset  you. 
(Very  confidentially)  Appearances  are  deceptive. 
[The  curtains  part  once  more,  and  the  little  girl  re- 
monstrates  with  the  Jester  again. 

THE  JESTER 

She  says  I  mustn't  say  another  word.  They're  all 
ready  to  begin.  (He  goes  solemnly  to  the  side  of  the 
stage,  bows  to  the  audience,  and  raps  three  times. 
The  curtains  part,  disclosing  a  large  room  with  a  door 
at  the  back,  and  a  large,  heavily  barred  door  at  the 
side.  Seats  himself  comfortably)  This  is  the  larder 
in  the  Ogre's  Castle.  It  is  a  very  unpleasant  Castle, 
with  a  Moat  and  a  Drawbridge  and  a  Portcullis  and 
Sentries,  and  no  hot  and  cold  running  water  and 
very  old-fashioned  plumbing.  But  then  the  Ogre 
doesn't  bathe  very  often,  and  if  he  did,  he  would 
find  the  Moat  much  roomier  than  any  bathtub 
(though  not  nearly  so  private);  but  the  plumbing 
has  nothing  to  do  with  this  play,  so  it  doesn't  really 
matter. 

This  is  the  Ogre's  larder (in  answer  to  an  im 
aginary  question  from  the  audience  he  spells  out  the 

word)  1-a-r-d-e-r and  this  is  inside  the  Ogre's 

Castle,  and  all  that  we  can  see  of  the  outside  is  a 
wee  patch  of  sky  through  the  narrow,  barred  windows 
high  up  in  the  thick  stone  walls. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  39 

You  wonder  where  that  big  door  leads.  Well  (and 
he  whispers  to  the  audience  again)  in  those  good  old 
days  they  didn't  have  ice-boxes,  and  the  Ogre  had 
to  keep  his  dinner  alive  until  he  was  ready  to  eat  it; 
and  there  is  a  whole  collection  of  dinners  behind  that 
door  waiting  for  the  Ogre  to  get  up  an  appetite. 
(A  telephone  rings  on  a  kitchen  table) 

Of  course,  some  people  will  say  there  were  no  tele 
phones  in  the  Steenth  Century,  when  all  of  this 
happens;  but  I  read  a  book  which  was  written  then, 
and  it  doesn't  say  that  they  didn't  have  telephones, 
and  if  the  man  who  wrote  that  book  didn't  know, 
I'd  like  to  know  who  does! 

\_The  Ogre's  cook,  who  is  fat,  and  sleepy,  and  who  has 
been  dozing  at  the  big  table,  wakes  up  and  goes  to  the 
telephone. 

This  is  the  Ogre's  Cook.  You  will  learn  to  know  her 
much  better  later  on. 

THE  COOK  (who,  by  the  way,  is  a  lady -cook) 
Hello!     Hello!     (She  jiggles  the  lever  up  and  down) 
What?  ...  Ye  rang  me,  Cintral.     (She  hangs  up 
the  telephone  in  disgust)    "Excuse  it,  please!" 

[The  Ogre  enters.  He  is  a  little  bent  gentleman,  with 
thick  spectacles,  who  hobbles  around  with  the  aid  of  a 
cane. 

THE  JESTER 

This  is  the  Ogre.  (The  Ogre,  proceeding  into  the 
room,  stops  to  bow  to  the  Jester,  who  returns  his  bow) 
He  is  a  very  polite  Ogre. 

THE  OGRE  (bows  to  the  Jester  again,  and  goes  to  the  Cook) 
WTiere  are  my  pills? 


40  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE  COOK  (producing  a  bottle  containing  enormous  red 

and  green  pills) 

There  they  are,  sorr.     (The  Ogre  empties  out  two  or 

three)     Wait  a  minute;    I'll  be  afther  gettin'  ye  a 

sup  of  wather!     (She  brings  him  water)     There! 
THE    OGRE     (swallowing  —  or  appearing  to  swallow  — 

several  pills)     My  stomach  feels  so  bad  —  so  bad 

this  morning! 
THE  JESTER  (to  the  audience) 

So  would  yours  if  you  ate  what  he  eats! 
THE  OGRE  (to  the  Cook) 

I  thought  I  heard  the  telephone  ring. 

THE   COOK 

Yez  did,  sorr. 

THE   JESTER 

I  forgot  to  say  that  the  Cook  is  Irish.     They  had 
Irish  cooks  in  the  Steenth  Century,  just  as  they 
will  have  Irish  cooks  in  the  Steenty-Steenth. 
THE  OGRE  (to  the  Cook) 
Well,  what  did  they  want? 

THE   COOK 

'Twas  a  wrong  number,  sorr.    Bad  'cess  on  'em! 
THE  JESTER  (with  a  wealth  of  expression) 

"Bad  'cess"  is  something  like  measles  —  only  more 

unpleasant. 

[The  telephone  rings  again.     The  Ogre  takes  it  up. 

THE   OGRE 

Hello!    Yes  ...  Yes  ...    (Angrily}    YES!   (With 
a  sudden  change  of  manner,  very  cordially)     Oh,  it's 
the  butcher! 
THE  COOK 
The  butcher! 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  41 

THE  OGRE 

Do  we  need  any  meat? 

THE  COOK  (counting  on  her  fingers) 
I'm  afraid  we  do,  sorr. 

THE   JESTER 

What  a  whopper!  Just  wait  and  see  what  they've 
got  behind  that  door! 

THE  OGRE  (to  the  telephone) 

Yes;  we  need  some  meat.  What  have  you  got 
that's  nice  this  morning?  .  .  (To  the  Cook)  He 
says  he's  got  a  nice  fresh  politician.  Ugh! 

THE  COOK  (earnestly) 

Politicians?  Don't  be  afther  thryin'  thim  again, 
sorr.  Th'  last  wan  was  so  tough  'twas  all  I  could 
do  to  make  broth  out  of  him! 

THE   OGRE 

And  I  couldn't  keep  even  that  on  my  stomach! 
(He  turns  to  the  telephone)  No;  no  politicians  this 
morning.  What  else  have  you  got?  .  .  .  (With 
great  pleasure)  He's  got  a  poet! 
[_The  Jester  breaks  into  uproarious  laughter  and  ap 
plause,  rocking  back  and  forth  overcome  with  mirth 
at  something  humorous  which  the  audience  has  ap 
parently  overlooked.  The  Ogre  and  the  Cook  stop  the 
action  of  the  play  to  bow  appreciatively  to  the  Jester, 
who  continues  to  laugh.  When  he  finally  quiets  down, 
the  play  proceeds  again. 

THE   COOK 

What  does  he  say  he  has? 

THE   OGRES 

He  say  he's  got  a  poet! 


42  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE  COOK  (reproachfully) 
Now!    Now! 

THE   OGRE 

I  love  poetry!    And  I  love  poets!    Particularly  fried 

with  drawn  butter  and  parsley! 
THE  COOK 

Do  yez  want  to  kill  yourself  entoirely?    Ye  had  a 

nightmare  after  ye  et  the  last.     Did  ye  or  did  ye 

not?    Well? 
THE  OGRE  (sadly  and  reluctantly) 

I  did. 

THE   JESTER 

He  would  have  had  a  Welsh  rabbit  dream  if  Welsh 
rabbits  had  been  invented,  but  this  is  the  Steenth 
Century,  and  nobody  has  discovered  them  yet. 

THE  COOK  (with  finality) 

No  more  poets,  if  ye  know  what's  best  for  ye! 

THE  OGRE  (to  the  telephone,  sorrowfully) 

No;  no  poets  to-day  .  .  .  (He  turns  to  the  Cook 
again)  He  says  he's  got  some  nice  little  girls. 

THE   COOK 

How  much? 

THE   OGRE 

How  much?  .  .  .    Forty-eight  cents  a  pound?    My, 
my,  you're  dear! 
THE  COOK 

'Tis  the  only  thing  ye  can  digest. 

THE   OGRE 

He  says  they'll  do  for  broiling. 

THE  COOK 

Take  'em. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  43 

THE  OGRE 

I'd  prefer  something  else  for  a  change. 

THE   COOK 

An'  upset  your  stomach  again?    Take  'em,  or  it'll 

be  th'  worse  for  ye! 
THE  OGRE  (to  the  telephone) 

Can  you  pick  out  one?    Just  one?  .  .  .  Nice?  .  .  . 

Fat?  ...  Juicy?  .  .  .     (He  turns  to  the  Cook)     I 

think  I  ought  to  go  to  the  market  and  pick  her  out 

myself. 
THE  COOK 

Let  me  talk  to  him!     (She  takes  up  the  telephone) 

Listen,  me  bould  shpalpeen! 

THE   JESTER 

"Shpalpeen"  is  an  Irish  word,  and  I  don't  know 
exactly  what  it  means. 

THE  COOK 

Send  her  up;  yis,  send  her  up!  An*  if  she  isn't 
better  than  th'  last,  'tis  meself  will  make  yez  eat 
her!  Yis!  Ye'll  have  to  eat  her,  even  if  she  sticks 
in  your  craw!  So  there!  (She  hangs  up  the  receiver, 
and  turns  to  the  Ogre)  When  I've  finished  cookin' 
her;  when  I've  got  her  stuffed  with  sage  and  chest 
nuts,  an'  roasted  to  a  turn,  with  a  sweet  sauce  with 
almonds  and  rice,  my,  won't  she  make  your  mouth 
wather ! 

THE  OGRE  (disconsolately) 
I  suppose  so;  I  suppose  so. 

THE  COOK 

Ye  talk  as  if  ye  didn't  like  th'  idea. 

THE  OGRE 

I  don't.  I  don't  like  to  eat  children.  I'd  prefer 
mutton;  or  beef. 


44  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE    COOK 

Ye  can't  digest  thim;   an'  if  ye  could,  ye  wouldn't 
be  an  ogre. 

THE    OGRE 

I  don't  want  to  be  an  ogre. 
THE  COOK  (with  finality) 

Ye've  got  to  be  an  ogre! 
THE  JESTER  (turning  to  the  audience  apprehensively) 

He's  got  to  be  an  ogre,  or  there  won't  be  any  play! 
THE  COOK  (proceeding  to  the  barred  door) 

Look  what's  waitin'  for  ye!    Your  Monday  dinner! 

[_She  opens  the  door,  and  a  little  girl  enters. 
THE  OGRE  (peering  around) 

Where  is  it?    Where  is  it? 

THE   COOK 

Right  before  your  eyes! 

THE   JESTER 

He's  so  blind  he  can  hardly  see  her. 
THE  OGRE  (finally  discerning  the  little  girl,  and  rising 

politely) 

How  do  you  do,  dinner? 
THE  MONDAY  DINNER  (frightened,  but  curtsying) 

Very  well,  thank  you,  sir. 
THE  COOK  (introducing  other  little  girls  as  they  enter) 

Your  Tuesday  dinner.     Your  Wednesday  dinner. 

Your  Thursday  dinner.    Your  Friday  dinner.    Your 

Saturday  dinner.     Your  Sunday  dinner. 

THE   OGRE 

How  do  you  do,  food? 

THE   DINNERS 

Very  well,  thank  you,  sir. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  45 

THE   OGRE 

Are  you  getting  enough  to  eat? 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

Oh,  yes,  sir!    Plenty,  sir. 
THE  OGRE  (turning  to  the  Cook) 

Didn't  one  of  them  have  a  cold? 
THE  COOK  (indicating  the  Wednesday  dinner) 

'Twas  this  wan. 
THE  OGRE  (hobbling  closer) 

How  do  you  feel,  my  dear?    Is  your  cold  better? 

THE   WEDNESDAY   DINNER 

Buch  bedder!     Thagk  you,  sir. 
THE  OGRE  (tragically) 

"Buch  bedder!     Thagk  you,  sir!"     She  wants  to 

poison  me! 
THE  COOK 

Wednesday    dinner,    change    place    with    Sunday 

dinner!      There!      (The   two   girls    indicated   change 

places)      Give   yourself   th'    benefit    of   th'    doubt! 

Never  take  a  chanst,  says  I! 
THE  OGRE  (cheering  up  a  little  as  he  surveys  his  collection) 

I  don't  see  why  we  want  more  meat  when  we  have 

all  of  this. 

THE  COOK 

Ye  don't  want  to  eat  thim  till  they're  fattened  up, 
do  ye? 

THE   OGRE 

No;  I  suppose  not. 

THE   COOK 

Give  'em  toime,  says  I;   give  'em  toime! 
THE  OGRE  (going  to  the  Monday  dinner) 
Let  me  feel  your  muscle,  my  dear.     (The  little  girl 


46  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

doubles  her  arm.     The  Ogre  feels  her  muscle.     With 
great  pleasure)     Is  that  the  best  you  can  do? 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

Yes,  sir. 

THE   OGRE 

Try  hard.     Now! 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

I'm  trying  my  hardest. 

THE   OGRE 

And  that's  your  very  best? 

THE  MONDAY   DINNER 

Yes,  sir. 
THE  OGRE  (excitedly) 

Sweet  child ! 

[He  attempts  to  take  a  bite  out  of  her  biceps. 
THE  COOK  (stopping  him  energetically) 

Not  raw!    Not  raw! 
THE  OGRE  (reluctantly) 

I  suppose  not.     But  isn't  she  just  too  sweet! 

THE   COOK 

She'll   be   much   swater  fricasseed   with   Maryland 

sauce. 

\_The  Jester,,  as  before,  breaks  into  hilarious  laughter. 

All  the  performers  are  pleased,  and  bow  to  him. 

THE   JESTER 

Maryland  sauce!    In  the  Steenth  Century!    Mary 
land  sauce! 

[The  actors  show  that  they  are  offended;    the  Jester 
subsides  suddenly;    the  play  continues. 
THE  OGRE  (proceeding  to  the  Thursday  dinner) 

And  you,  my  dear;    let  me  feel  your  muscle.     (He 
feels;    then  to  the  Cook) 
She's  not  very  tender. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 47 

THE   COOK 

She's  only  been  here  a  week,  son*. 

THE   OGRE 

Put  her  to  bed;    no  exercise;    double  rations;    lots 
of  candy  and  cream. 
THE  COOK 
Yis,  sorr. 

THE  OGRE 

Even  then  we  may  have  to  use  her  for  soup  stock. 
(He  shakes  his  finger  at  her)  I'm  disappointed  in 
you,  little  girl!  Disappointed!  (He  looks  around 
piteously)  I'm  an  old  man,  and  I  haven't  a  good 
digestion,  and  what  you  would  do  to  me!  Oh, 
what  you  would  do  to  me!  (He  collapses  into  a 
chair)  Get  me  my  pills.  (The  Cook  brings  them. 
He  swallows  one.  Points  to  the  Thursday  dinner) 
Take  her  away !  Take  them  all  away !  The  thought 
of  them  is  enough  to  ruin  my  appetite! 
THE  COOK  (to  the  dinners) 

Come  on,  there's  a  dear.  Come  on.  Come  on. 
[She  urges  them  back  where  they  came  from. 

THE   OGRE 

Get  them  out  of  my  sight!  Away  with  them! 
(Feebly)  This  business  of  being  an  ogre  isn't  what 
it's  cracked  up  to  be! 

THE  JESTER  (shaking  his  head  sympathetically) 

Of  course,  he  didn't  use  those  words  in  the  Steenth 
Century;  but  that's  exactly  how  he  felt.     (Address 
ing  the  Ogre)     Isn't  that  true? 
\_The  Ogre  nods  sadly. 

THE  COOK   (having  fastened  the  great  door,  returns  to 
the  Ogre,  and  begins  temptingly) 


48 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 


With  a  bit  of  allspice,  and  a  dash  of  lemon,  and  a 
little  mushroom  flavoring  .  .  . 
THE  OGRE  (interrupting) 
Ugh! 

THE  COOK 

An'  a  thick  yellow  sauce,  an'  a  touch  of  curry  .  .  . 

THE   OGRE 

Ugh!    Ugh! 

THE  COOK 

An'  I'll  bake  some  of  'em  into  a  pie,  browned  on 
th'  top,  an'  crisp  at  th'  edges  .  .  . 

THE  OGRE 

Ugh!    Ugh!    Ugh! 

THE  JESTER 

He's  thinking  of  the  pies  his  mother  used  to  make. 
[A  trumpet  call  outside. 

Maestoso  f  ^ 


The      but  -  cher    man!    The    but  -  cher    man! 
THE  COOK 

The  butcher! 
THE  OGRE  (brightening  a  little) 

The  new  girl! 
THE  COOK 

I'll  bring  her  right  in! 

\_The  trumpet  sounds  a  second  time. 

n      P™*°ff  I  I 


ti: 


Hur    -    ry          up !   Hur-ry  up !  Hur-ry  up !  Hur-ry  up ! 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 


49 


THE   COOK 

Take  yer  toime!    Take  yer  toime!    I'm  coming! 
[She  goes  out. 

THE  JESTER 

That  was  the  way  the  butcher  announced  he  was 
calling  in  the  Steenth  Century.     In  those  good  old 
days  there  was  style  to  keeping  house. 
\_The  trumpet  blows  a  third  time;  a  long  and  com 
plicated  call. 

Recitativo 


I've    put      her      on     the   dumb-wait-er !  I've 

molto  ritard. 


put  her    on  T  the  dumb-wait-er !     I've  put  her    on   the 
*  «  tempo    , 


dumb-wait  -  er ! 


Now      hoi     -    -    -    -    at! 


THE  JESTER  (after  having  listened  attentively} 

In  the  language  of  the  Steenth  Century,  that  means, 
"I've  put  her  on  the  dumb-waiter.     Hoist." 
(The  Ogre,  who  has  been  sitting  at  the  table  disconso 
lately,  rises  laboriously,  produces  a  pocket  mirror  and 
a  comb,  and  proceeds  to  spruce  himself  up.    The  Jester, 
sighing) 
The  good  old  days!    Ah,  the  good  old  days!    To-day 


50  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

what  housewife  would  powder  her  nose  to  receive 
a  lamb  chop? 

{The  door  at  the  rear  flies  open,  the  Ogre  faces  about 
ceremoniously,  and  the  little  girl  who  interrupted  the 
Jester  before  the  curtains  parted  stands  on  the  threshold. 

THE   OGRE 

Hello! 

FRANCES 

Hello! 
THE  OGRE  (bowing  rheumatically) 

Allow  me  to  welcome  you  to  my  castle. 
FRANCES  (curtsying) 

Thank  you. 

THE    OGRE 

Won't  you  walk  in? 

FRANCES 

Yes.  (She  looks  around)  What  a  queer  room  this 
is!  Oh,  but  it's  not  polite  to  criticize. 

THE   OGRE 

It  is  anything  but  polite.  I  think  it  is  a  very  nice 
room. 

FRANCES 

Do  you?    Well,  then,  I  agree  with  you. 
THE  OGRE  (unable  to  believe  his  ears) 

What  did  you  say?    What  did  you  say? 
FRANCES 

I  said,  "I  agree  with  you." 
THE  OGRE  (joyfully) 

You  agree  with  me!    What  beautiful  words!    You 

agree  with  me!    How  I  hope  you  mean  it! 
FRANCES 

Of  course  I  mean  it. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 51 

THE  OGRE  (dubiously) 

I'll  know  more  about  that  a  little  later. 

THE   JESTER 

He  means  he'll  have  inside  information. 
THE  OGRE  (shaking  his  head  sadly) 

It's  happened  to  me  so  often  before  :  so  often! 
I've  met  little  girls  —  oh,  the  dearest  children  — 
and  they  said  they'd  agree  with  me,  and  I  thought 
they  meant  it.  But  they  didn't.  (He  rubs  his 
stomach  pathetically)  They  disagreed  with  me  most 
violently.  Deceitful  little  wretches! 

FRANCES 

I  hope  you  won't  find  me  deceitful. 

THE   OGRE 

I  hope  I  won't,  my  dear.    When  I  think  of  what  I 
did  for  some  of  those  children  it  almost  destroys 
my  faith  in  human  nature!     I  treated  them  like 
royalty;  I  fed  them  on  the  fat  of  the  land ;  I  thought 
nothing  was  too  good  for  them!    And  how  did  they 
repay  me?    They  kept  me  awake  nights! 
[He  hobbles  to  the  table  and  takes  a  pill. 
FRANCES  (timidly) 

I  don't  know  if  I  ought  to  talk  to  you. 

THE   OGRE 

And  why  not,  pray? 

FRANCES 

We  haven't  been  introduced. 
THE  OGRE  (smiling) 

Well,  that  can  be  arranged.    WTiat  is  your  name? 
FRANCES 

My  name  is  Frances. 


52  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE   OGEE 

Pleased  to  meet  you.    Now,  is  everything  all  right? 

FRANCES 

What  is  your  name? 
THE  OGRE  (sighing) 

It's  so  long  since  anybody  has  called  me  by  my  name 

that  I've  almost  forgotten  it.     I'm  just  the  Ogre. 

But  when  I  was  a  little  fellow,  just  a  shaver  — 
THE  JESTER  (interrupting) 

An  Ogrette,  so  to  speak. 

THE   OGRE 

My  mother  used  to  call  me  Freddy. 

FRANCES 

/  can't  very  well  call  you  Freddy,  can  I? 

THE   OGRE 

No;  but  you  can  think  of  me  as  Freddy.  You  will, 
sometimes;  won't  you? 

FRANCES 

Yes.    I  promise. 
THE  OGRE  (walking  about  emotionally) 

How  that  brings  back  thoughts  of  the  old  days! 
Things  were  different  then!  Oh,  yes!  Things  were 
different.  (Suddenly  he  stops  near  her)  Would  you 
mind?  (He  doubles  her  arm)  It's  all  right  now  that 
we've  been  introduced.  That's  right.  (He  feels  her 
biceps  with  signs  of  joy)  I  believe,  oh,  I  do  believe 
that  you  will  agree  with  me!  (He  hastens  to  the 
kitchen  table  and  opens  a  huge  diary.  He  leafs  through 
it,  mumbling  the  names  of  the  days)  Monday  — 
Wednesday  —  Friday  —  A  week  from  Monday; 
that's  it!  (He  turns  politely  to  the  girl)  How  would 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  53 

you  like  to  make  a  date  with  me  for  a  week  from 
Monday? 
FRANCES 
A  date?    What  for? 

THE   OGRE 

A  date  for  supper. 

FRANCES 

Don't  I  get  anything  to  eat  until  then? 

THE  OGRE  (laughing  heartily) 

How  absurd!  How  perfectly  preposterous!  How 
utterly  ridiculous!  You  get  something  to  eat  every 
hah*  hour!  Every  fifteen  minutes,  if  you  want  it! 
Why,  you  spend  the  whole  day  eating!  You  tell 
the  Cook  your  favorite  dishes,  and  she  does  nothing 
except  cook  them  for  you  —  except  when  she's  cook 
ing  for  me.  And  then,  a  week  from  Monday,  we 
meet  at  the  supper  table.  Is  it  a  go? 

FRANCES 
A  go? 

THE  OGRE  (correcting  himself) 

Pardon  my  slang.  I  mean,  do  you  accept  my 
invitation? 

FRANCES  (after  thinking) 
Yes;  thank  you. 

THE   OGRE 

That's  fine!  Of  course,  it  doesn't  really  matter 
whether  you  accept  or  not,  because  you'll  be  there, 
anyway.  But  it's  always  nicer  to  do  things  politely, 
isn't  it? 

FRANCES  (urithout  answering) 
After  Monday;  what  then? 


54  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE   JESTER 

You  see!    She's  getting  suspicious! 
THE  OGRE  (lightly) 

After  Monday?    The  world  will  go  on  in  the  same 

old  way.      And  you,  let  us  hope  (he  sighs  blissfully), 

will  be  a  sweet  memory. 

[He  strikes  a  gong. 
THE  COOK  (entering) 

Yis,  sorr? 

THE   OGRE 

Cook,   this  is  Frances.      (They  bow  to  each  other) 

Frances  and  I  have  made  an  appointment  for  a 

week  from  Monday. 
THE  COOK 

Yis,  sorr.     I'll  raymember  it. 
THE  OGRE  (taking  the  Cook  aside) 

How  will  we  have  her?    Stuffed  and  roasted? 
THE  COOK  (shaking  her  head) 

If  I'm  not  afther  makin'  a  mistake,  she'll  do  for 

broiling. 
THE  OGRE  (delighted) 

You  really  think  so?    Well,  then,  broiling  it  is.    (He 

hobbles  to  the  door  much  more  cheerfully)    I'm  beginning 

to  feel  better  already.     Good  morning. 

[He  goes. 
FRANCES  (going  to  the  Cook) 

What  does  he  mean  by  roasting  and  broiling? 
THE  COOK 

Don't  ye  know? 

FRANCES 

No. 


THE   DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  55 

THE   COOK 

Ye'll  learn  soon  enough.  (She  goes,  locking  the  en 
trance  door  behind  her.  Frances  tries  the  door;  it 
will  not  open) 

THE   JESTER 

Now  she's  getting  very  suspicious. 
[Frances  comes  back  to  the  center  of  the  room,  plainly 
worried.     She  goes  to  the  great  barred  door,  pushes 
aside  the  bars  and  opens  it.     The  dinners  rush  in. 
FRANCES  (surprised) 
Hello! 

THE   DINNERS 

Hello! 

FRANCES 

Who  are  you? 

THE   DINNERS 

We  are  the  dinners.     I  am  the  Monday  dinner.     I 
am   the   Tuesday   dinner.      I   am   the   Weddesday 
didder  —  the  Thursday  dinner  — 
£a  chorus 

FRANCES 

The  Monday  dinner?  The  Tuesday  dinner?  What 
ever  do  you  mean? 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

He's  going  to  eat  me  to-night. 
FRANCES  (horrified) 

Eat  you? 
THE  TUESDAY  DINNER  (nodding) 

And  he's  going  to  eat  me  to-morrow. 

FRANCES 

Oh! 
THE  WEDNESDAY  DINNER  (you  remember  she  has  a  cold) 


56  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

Yes;    ad  he's   goig   to   eat  me  Weddesday,   udless 
she    (pointing    to    the    Tuesday   dinner)    upsets    his 
stubbig ! 
FRANCES  (desperately) 

I  don't  believe  it!     I  don't  believe  it! 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

Do  you  know  where  you  are?    This  is  the  Ogre's 
Castle! 

FRANCES 

What  of  it? 

THE  MONDAY   DINNER 

You  know  what  an  Ogre  is,  don't  you? 

FRANCES 

But  —  but  he's  such  a  nice  old  man.     He  said  he 
was  going  to  dine  with  me  a  week  from  Monday. 

THE   TUESDAY  DINNER 

Not  with  you;  on  you! 

THE   JESTER 

What  a  difference  one  little  word  makes! 
FRANCES  (terror-stricken) 

Dine  on  me?    You  mean  he's  going  to  eat  me? 

THE  MONDAY  DINNER 

Of  course!    He's  an  Ogre. 

THE   TUESDAY   DINNER 

First  he'll  keep  you  here  a  week,  and  fatten  you. 

THE   THURSDAY   DINNER 

That's  what  he's  doing  with  all  of  us. 

THE    FRIDAY   DINNER 

He'll  feel  your  muscle  every  day. 

FRANCES 

He's  done  that  already! 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  57 

THE   WEDNESDAY   DINNER 

He'll  feed  you  till  you're  nice   (she  has  a  struggle 
pronouncing  the  word)  ad  fat  ad  juicy,  ad  thed  — 
FRAXCES 
And  then? 

THE  MOXDAY   DINNER 

Your  turn  will  come  a  week  from  Monday. 
FRANCES  (desperately) 

But  I  don't  want  to  be  eaten! 

THE  MONDAY   DINNER 

None  of  us  want  to  be  eaten.  But  what  can  we  do 
about  it? 

FRANCES 

I  know  what  I  can  do  about  it!  Go  to  the  door! 
Listen!  Tell  me  if  you  hear  any  one  coming!  (The 
dinners  rush  to  the  door;  Frances  to  the  telephone) 
Hello!  Hello!  .  .  .  Central,  please  be  quick!  .  .  . 
Hello,  Central,  give  me  Information!  (She  turns  to 
the  dinners)  Do  you  hear  anything? 

THE   MONDAY   DINNER 

All  right  so  far! 

FRANCES 

Hello,  Information!  Information?  .  .  .  Give  me  the 
telephone  number  of  my  Fairy  Godmother.  .  .  .  No, 
I  don't  know  where  she  lives,  and  I  don't  know  her 
name.  But  you  know,  don't  you?  ...  Of  course 
you  know!  That's  what  you're  there  for!  ...  Yes; 
I'll  hold  the  wire;  but  hurry \  Hurry! 

THE   MONDAY   DIXXER 

The  Ogre's  coming! 

FRANCES 

Lock  the  door1. 


58  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE  MONDAY   DINNER 

It's  locked  already!    But  he's  unlocking  it! 

FRANCES 

Then  don't  let  him  in! 

\_A  key  turns  gratingly  in  the  lock,  but  the  dinners  hold 

fast  to  the  knob. 

THE  MONDAY  DINNER 

He's  trying  to  open  the  door! 

FRANCES 

Hold  tight!  Hold  tight!  (She  turns  to  the  telephone 
excitedly)  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Fairy  Godmother? 
This  is  Frances.  I'm  in  trouble;  terrible  trouble.  .  .  . 
What?  ...  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  about  it?  You 
know  all  about  it  already?  Oh,  you  are  a  Fairy 
Godmother!  Now  what  am  I  to  do?  .  .  .  Yes?  .  .  . 
Yes?  ...  I  turn  my  ring  twice?  And  then  back 
once?  Oh,  thank  you!  Thank  you  ever  so  much! 
[She  hangs  up. 

THE  WEDNESDAY  DINNER 

He's  gone  to  get  the  Cook! 

FRANCES 

Quick!    Hide! 

{The  dinners  rush  madly  out   of  sight.      The  door 

bursts  open;   the  Ogre  and  the  Cook  rush  in. 

THE  OGRE  (very  angry) 

Who  tried  to  keep  me  out?  (He  peers  about  and 
catches  sight  of  Frances)  Did  you  do  it?  You 
couldn't  have  done  it  all  by  yourself;  you  couldn't. 

FRANCES 
Well,  if  I  couldn't,  I  didn't.     So  there! 

THE   OGRE 

Be  more   respectful   to  your  elders!     (He  hobbles 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 59 

about  the  room)  There's  only  one  of  them  here. 
Where  are  the  others? 

FRANCES 

What  others? 

THE   OGRE 

You  know  well  enough!  (He  turns  to  the  Cook) 
See  if  they're  all  there!  If  there's  one  missing  — 
(and  he  gasps  at  the  thought)  —  if  there's  one  missing, 
I'll  eat  you  (he  points  a  finger  at  the  trembling  Cook) 
even  if  you're  the  death  of  me! 

THE  JESTER  (nodding) 
And  she  would  be! 

THE  COOK  (opening  the  barred  door  and  counting,  terror- 
stricken) 
Wan  —  three  —  foive  —  sivin.     None  missing,  sorr. 

THE   OGRE 

But  there  might  have  been!  There  might  have 
been!  (He  hobbles  about  the  room,  glaring  at  Frances) 
Hum!  So  this  is  how  you  repay  me  for  my  hospi 
tality!  This  is  how  you  reward  me  for  my  kind 
ness!  This  is  the  thanks  you  give  me  for  the  food 
and  shelter  which  I  was  ready  to  provide! 
FRANCES 

How  about  the  food  which  I  was  to  provide? 

THE   OGRE 

That's  another  matter!  Quite  another  matter!  (He 
turns  to  the  Cook)  Light  the  fire!  See  that  it's 
good  and  hot!  Get  the  spit  ready!  I'm  going  to 
do  something  that  I've  never  done  before  in  my  life; 
I'm  going  to  roast  her  myself! 
[He  turns  savagely  on  Frances. 


60  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE  COOK  (very  much  alarmed) 
Oh,  don't  do  that,  sorr! 

THE   OGRE 

And  why  not? 

THE   COOK 

Ye  could  never  eat  her!    Boasting's  an  art!    Ye've 
got  to  learn  how! 

THE   OGRE 

I'm  going  to  start  learning  this  minute. 
THE  COOK  (desperately) 

Lave  it  to  me,  sorr.     Let  me  do  it!     (She  beckons 

anxiously  to  Frances)    Come  along,  little  girl !   Come 

along! 
THE  OGRE  (furiously) 

Did  you  hear  what  I  said?    Well,  I  meant  it! 
THE  COOK 

But- 
THE  OGRE  (interrupting  at  the  top  of  his  lungs) 

Do  as  I  say! 
THE  COOK  (whimpering) 

Yis,  sorr. 

[She  turns  slowly  to  the  door,  very  much  frightened. 

FRANCES 

No!    Stop!     (The  Cook  stops.     Frances  turns  to  the 
Ogre)    You're  not  going  to  eat  me! 

THE   OGRE 

No? 

FRANCES 

No! 

THE   OGRE 

Well,  just  watch  me! 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  61 

FRANCES 

You're  nothing  but  a  bogey  man  in  a  fairy  tale! 
And   fairy   tales   always   come   out   happily.     I've 
known  that  ever  since  I  was  five. 
THE  OGRE  (seizing  a  huge  knife  from  the  table  and  ad 
vancing  upon  her) 

And  how  are  you  going  to  make  this  one  turn  out 
happily? 

FRANCES 

Just  so! 

[She  raises  her  hands  and  turns  the  ring.    Instantly 

the  lights  go  out  and  thunder  rumbles  and  crashes. 
THE  OGRE  (in  the  dark) 

Where  is  she?     Where  is  she?     Let  me  catch  her! 

Just  let  me  get  my  hands  on  her! 
A  VOICE 

Here  I  am! 

[The  room  lights  up.     But  the  voice  has  not  come 

from  Frances;    it  has  come  from  a  strapping  Boy 

Scout  who  stands,  quite  fearless,  on  the  spot  where 

she  stood. 
THE  COOK  (gasping  with  surprise) 

Saints  in  Hiven,  how  she's  changed! 
THE  JESTER  (indicating  the  Ogre  with  glee) 

He's  too  blind  to  know  the  difference! 

THE   OGRE 

Now  I've  got  you! 

[He  advances  with  his  knife.    As  he  raises  it  to  strike, 
the  Scout  knocks  it  out  of  his  hand. 
THE  OGRE  (collapsing  with  astonishment) 
She  knocked  it  out  of  my  hand! 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 


THE  COOK  (bursting  with  laughter) 

Indade  she  did! 
THE  OGRE  (incredulously) 

A  little  girl  knocked  that  knife  out  of  my  hand! 

(He  goes  to  the  Scout,  still  unaware  of  what  has  taken 

place)    If  you  don't  mind,  may  I  feel  your  muscle? 
THE  SCOUT  (smiling  and  doubling  his  arm) 

Certainly ! 
THE  OGRE  (feels) 

Oh!    O-h!    O— h— h! 

\_He  sinks  helpless  into  a  chair. 
THE  SCOUT  (pointing  to  the  barred  door) 

Open  that  door! 
THE  COOK  (gesticulating  at  the  Ogre) 

Not  unless  he  says  so. 
THE  SCOUT 

Open  that  door! 

[There  is  a  terrific  hammering  on  the  barred  door. 

THE  COOK 

I  don't  dast! 

THE   SCOUT 

You  don't  have  to! 

\_And  on  the  word  the  door  flies  open  and  a  troop  of 

Boy  Scouts  bursts  into  the  room. 

THE   COOK 

Saints  preserve  us! 
THE  OGRE  (peering  at  them  fearfully) 
Who  are  you? 

THE   SCOUTS 

I'm  the  Monday  dinner!  I'm  the  Tuesday  dinner! 
—  the  Wednesday  dinner!  —  the  Thursday  dinner! 
[A  chorus. 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE  63 

THE  OGRE  (rises  very  slowly,  very  feebly,  and  staggers 
towards  them)  If  you  don't  mind?  (He  feels  the 
muscle  of  two  or  three.  Then,  very  faintly)  I  knew 
this  was  going  to  happen  some  day! 

[He  faints. 

THE   FIRST   BOY  SCOUT 

And  now,  what  are  we  going  to  do  with  him? 

THE   SCOUTS 

Kill  him! 

No,  killing's  too  good  for  him! 
Yes,  kill  him! 
THE  COOK  (hastening  to  them) 

Go  aisy,  lads!  Go  aisy!  Ye  don't  think  the  ould 
baste  (and  she  points  to  the  unconscious  form  of  the 
Ogre)  ever  really  et  anybody? 

THE   PRINCIPAL  BOY   SCOUT 

He  never  ate  anybody?     I  don't  believe  it! 

THE  COOK  (smiling) 

I  wouldn't  be  afther  sayin'  it  if  he  could  hear  me, 
but  just  bechune  you  an*  me,  lads,  he  never  et 
anything  but  what  you  and  I  would  eat!  (They 
look  at  her  in  astonishment.  She  continues  confi 
dentially)  'Twas  himself  that  did  the  buyin',  but 
'twas  I  that  did  the  cookin',  an'  what  he  got  on 
his  table  —  (She  interrupts)  D'ye  know  what  it 
was? 

THE  SCOUTS 

No.     What  was  it? 

THE  COOK  (with  great  secrecy) 
Irish  stew! 

THE   JESTER 

That's  why  his  stomach  was  always  out  of  order! 


64  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE   COOK 

Irish  stew  and  Irish  stew!  Day  in  an'  day  out  for 
twinty  years!  An*  every  single  wan  av  'em  differ 
ent!  Once  —  once  in  a  long  while  'twas  roast 
lamb;  but  in  the  main  'twas  Irish  stew,  and  then, 
more  Irish  stew! 

ONE  OF  THE   SCOUTS 

But  he  thinks  he's  been  eating  — 

THE  COOK  (interrupting) 

I  can't  help  what  he  thinks.  He  can  think  what  he 
plases.  If  he  chooses  to  think  he's  been  eatin' 
them  little  dears  (and  she  points  to  the  barred  door 
and  to  the  room  which  it  discloses)  'tis  his  privilege! 
But  before  I'd  let  wan  av  'em  come  to  harm,  'tis 
meself  would  take  th'  ould  baste  an'  cook  him  in  his 
own  kitchen! 

ONE  OF  THE  SCOUTS  (after  a  pause) 
We've  all  read  of  ogres. 

ANOTHER 

Yes. 

ANOTHER 

Man-eating  ogres! 

THE   COOK 

Sure!  Well,  I  ask  ye  this;  did  ye  ever  read  of  a 
man-eating  ogre  ever  eatin'  anybody?  Think  care 
ful  before  ye  speak!  Did  ye  ever  read  of  any  foine 
young  hero  gettin'  fricasseed?  Ye  did  not!  (Tri 
umphantly)  An'  for  why?  'Twas  because  ivry  last 
wan  av  th'  ogres  had  an  Irish  cook,  an'  because  when 
they  served  him  up  an  Irish  stew,  how  should  him 
self  know  if  'twas  lamb  —  or  beef  —  or  perhaps  the 


THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 65 

loikes  of  you?  (The  Ogre  moves  feebly)  Don't  let 
on  ye  know,  lads!  It's  a  trade  secret! 

THE   PRINCIPAL   BOY    SCOUT 

There's  one  thing  you've  got  to  explain. 
THE  COOK 

An'  that  is? 
THE  PRINCIPAL  BOY  SCOUT  (pointing  to  the  great  barred 

door) 

That  is  his  larder,  isn't  it?    It  was  full  of  little  girls. 

Now,  what's  happened  to  them? 
THE  COOK  (scratching  her  head) 

That's  a  foine  question  for  th'  loikes  of  you  to  be 

askin*  me! 

THE   PRINCIPAL   BOY   SCOUT 

Why? 
THE  COOK  (perplexed) 

Afther  th'  magic's  gone  an'  changed  thim  all  into 
you!  (And  she  points  around  the  circle.  The  Scouts 
are  puzzled.  She  points  to  the  ring  on  the  leader's 
finger)  She  had  a  ring  loike  that,  an'  she  turned  it 
somehow  — 

THE    PRINCIPAL   BOY   SCOUT 

Turned  it? 

\_He  raises  his  hand  curiously  and  examines  the  ring. 
THE  COOK  (eagerly) 
Thry  turning  it! 

\_The  Principal  Boy  Scout  turns  the  ring.  Again 
there  is  darkness  and  rolling  thunder.  But  when  the 
light  appears  again,  the  Boy  Scouts  have  not  vanished. 
Instead,  next  to  each  one  stands  one  of  the  missing 
dinners. 


66  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE  COOK  (triumphantly) 

Th'  magic  worked  different  this  time,  but  there  ye 

are! 
THE  OGRE   (rises  feebly,  and  staggers  to  a  chair.     He 

looks  around  grimly  and  fastens  his  gaze  upon  the 

Cook) 

I  heard  what  you  said!     I  wasn't  unconscious! 
THE  COOK  (terrified) 

For  th'  love  of  Mike! 

THE   OGRE 

When  I  thought  I  was  eating  little  girls  you  were 

really  serving  me  Irish  stew?     Nothing  but  Irish 

stew? 
THE  COOK  (trembling) 

Y-yis,  sorr. 
THE  OGRE  (turning  to  Frances  and  the  dinners) 

I  take  back  all  the  hard  things  I  ever  thought  of 

you!     (He  rises  slowly)    Open  the  doors!    Let  them 

go  home! 

THE   DINNERS 

Home! 

He's  going  to  let  us  go  home! 

We're  not  going  to  be  eaten! 

We're  going  home! 
FRANCES  (who,  perhaps,  is  a  little  sorry  for  the  Ogre, 

coming  to  him  gently) 

But  what  are  you  going  to  eat  now? 
THE  OGRE  (smiling) 

Do  you  really  want  to  know? 

FRANCES 

Yes. 


THE   DYSPEPTIC   OGRE  67 

THE    OGRE 

I'm  going  to  turn  vegetarian! 

THE  CURTAINS  BEGIN  TO  CLOSE 

THE  JESTER  (rising) 

Stop!    Those  curtains  must  not  close! 

FRANCES 

Why  not? 

THE   JESTER 

This  is  a  fairy  play.    Where's  the  moral? 

THE   OGRE 

That's  so! 

THE  COOK  (scraiching  her  head) 
Well,  what  is  the  moral? 

THE   OGRE 

Maybe  —  maybe  —  I  ate  the  moral. 

[There  is  a  pause  while  everybody  thinks  hard. 

THE   JESTER 

Well,  I'm  waiting. 
THE  COOK  (with  imiermost  conviction} 

The  moral's  got  something  to  do  with  Irish  stew! 
THE  OGRE  (shuddering) 

Let's  hope  not! 

[He  swallows  a  pill  hastily. 
FRANCES  (offer  another  pause) 

This  is  the  moral;   when  you're  in  trouble,  ask  for 

Information  and  telephone  your  Fairy  Godmother. 

THE    PRINCIPAL   BOY    SCOUT 

But  what  are  you  going  to  do  if  there's  no  telephone? 

FRANCES 

I  don't  know.    Let's  ask  the  Ogre. 


68  THE  DYSPEPTIC  OGRE 

THE   PRINCIPAL   BOY   SCOUT 

Yes;  let's  ask  the  Ogre. 
THE  COOK  (breaks  into  laughter,  rocks  back  and  forth 

doubled  up  with  mirth.     Finally,  gasping  for  breathy 

wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes) 

G'wan!    Ye  don't  really  believe  in  Ogres? 
THE  JESTER  (with  a  sweeping  gesture) 

That  is  the  moral! 

[He  bows. 

CURTAIN 


IN  THE  NET 

A  "CROOK"   COMEDY 

Opus  17 


CHARACTERS 

MlLLIGAN 

NOTES 

WlLKS 

MURDOCH 


Copyright,  1921, 
BY  PEBCIVAL  WILDE. 


IN  THE  NET 

A  large,  extremely  simple  room  in  the  building  occupied 
by  the  American  Safe  Manufacturing  Company.  The 
icalls  are  whitewashed,  and  are  evidently  perfectly  solid. 
To  the  right  is  the  only  entrance:  a  small  heavy  door,  with 
a  lock,  of  which  the  key  is  on  the  inside.  There  are  a  few 
windows,  but  they  are  along  the  rear,  and  at  least  fifteen 
feet  from  the  floor.  The  walls  are  perfectly  bare. 

There  is  practically  no  furniture.  Two  small  chairs 
are  placed  over  towards  the  left;  a  large  safe,  obviously 
new,  occupies  the  position  of  honor  near  tlie  center  of  the 
stage.  And  that  is  all. 

As  the  curtain  rises,  Noyes,  an  old  watchman,  enters 
the  room  on  his  regular  round  through  the  building. 
Milligan,  a  policeman  in  full  uniform,  starts  up  from  his 
chair,  where  he  has  been  dozing. 

MILLIGAN 

Well? 
NOYES  (starting  violently) 

How  you  did  frighten  me,  Mr.  Milligan! 
MILLIGAN  (y aiming,  and  stretching  his  arms  lazily) 

Nothing  doing  yet? 

NOTES 

Not  a  sound,  Mr.  Milligan. 

MILLIGAN 

Been  on  your  rounds? 


72  IN  THE  NET 


NOTES 

Just  finished,  sir. 

MILLIGAN 

Nothing  unusual? 

NOTES 

Why,  sir,  there  hasn't  been  anything  unusual  here 
in  thirty  years ! 

MILLIGAN  (laughing) 

Well,  how  about  to-night? 

NOTES  (earnestly) 

You  know,  sir,  I  don't  like  it.  It's  my  place,  you 
see,  to  look  after  things:  to  see  that  everything's 
all  right.  It's  as  if  the  firm  didn't  have  enough  con 
fidence  in  me  —  as  if  they  didn't  trust  me. 

MILLIGAN  (laughing  boisterously) 
You?    What  could  you  do? 

NOTES  (drawing  himself  up) 
I?  ...  Just  wait  and  see,  sir! 

MILLIGAN 

But  you  don't  like  us,  eh? 

NOTES 

No,  sir,  I  don't!  I  can't  turn  without  running  into 
one  of  you  gentlemen.  Upstairs  —  there's  Mr. 
Reilly,  smoking  a  pipe  —  a  pipe,  mind  you  —  with 
his  feet  on  Mr.  Crawford's  desk.  In  the  cellar, 
there's  Mr.  Flynn,  with  some  of  his  friends,  playing 
Canfield.  Outside  there's  —  oh,  I  don't  know  all 
their  names,  but  every wheres  I  look  there's  police! 
police !  nothing  but  police !  I  come  in  here,  and  you 
scare  me  out  of  a  year's  growth ! 

MILLIGAN 

Ho!  Ho! 


IN  THE   NET  73 


NOTES 

And  that  isn't  all !  Every  one  of  'em  wants  to  arrest 
me!  I've  been  arrested  seventeen  times  in  the  last 
twenty  minutes !  And  Mr.  Reilly  wanted  to  put  me 
through  the  third  degree! 

MILLIGAN 

Well,  the  boys  will  amuse  themselves! 
NOTES 

Mr.  Milligan. 

MILUGAN 

Yes? 

NOTES 

How  many  cops  —  how  many  of  you  gentlemen  are 
here? 

MILLIGAN 

'Bout  two  dozen,  I  guess. 

NOTES 

And  to  catch  one  man! 

MILLIGAN 

Plenty,  isn't  it? 

NOTES 

Tin  horn  sports,  that's  what  they  are! 

MILLIGAN 

What? 

NOTES 

When  /  could  do  it  all  by  myself! 

MILLIGAN 

Well,  you'll  have  your  chance. 
NOTES 

And  I'll  use  it,  sir,  I'll  use  it!  .  .  .  Do  you  think  — 
do  you  think  he's  coming? 


74  IN  THE  NET 


MILLIGAN 

Sure  as  the  Day  of  Judgment. 
NOTES 
Twelve  o'clock,  he  said. 

MILLIGAN 

And  he'll  be  here. 

NOTES 

That's  what  he  wrote. 

MILLIGAN 

Did  you  see  the  letter? 
NOTES 

Of  course!    The  firm  showed  it  to  me! 

MILLIGAN 

Do  you  remember  what  he  said? 
NOTES 

Do  I  remember?  Every  word,  sir.  "To  the  Amer 
ican  Safe  Manufacturing  Company.  Dear  Sirs: — 
The  newspapers  announce  that  you  have  completed 
an  absolutely  burglar-proof  safe.  Gentlemen,  there 
is  no  such  thing.  To  convince  you  I  shall  call  at 
twelve,  Tuesday  night,  and  I  trust  that  you  will 
publish  an  apology  for  your  absurd  statement 
Wednesday  morning.  Cordially  yours,  J.  Henry 
Murdoch.  P.  S.  Kindly  have  the  safe  removed  to  a 
large  and  airy  room  —  your  storeroom  has  an  offen 
sive  odor.  J.  H.  M." 

MILLIGAN 

Well,  of  all  the  nerve! 

NOTES 

That's  what  it  is,  sir.  Our  storeroom  —  offensive 
odor!  Nothing  of  the  kind!  Why,  it  smells  as 


IN  THE  NET  75 


sweet  as  a  baby's  breath!  .  .  .  Er,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  if  he  coines? 
MILLIGAN  (pompously) 
Don't  you  worry. 

NOYES 

Going  to  arrest  him? 

MILLIGAN 

No!    I'm   going  to   give  him  a  bouquet  of  bride 
roses ! 

NOYES 

Eh? 

MILLIGAN 

No!     I'm  not  going  to  arrest  him!  Oh,  no! 
NOTES 

But  don't  let  him  touch  the  safe,  will  you? 

MILLIGAN 

What? 
NOTES  (crossing  to  safe) 

Wouldn't  like  him  to  hurt  it.     Beautiful,  isn't  it? 

[_The  door   opens,   and   a   middle-aged,   commanding 

man  enters. 
MILLIGAN  (challenging  him) 

Stop!    Who  are  you? 
WILKS  (showing  a  gold  badge) 

WTilks.    United  States  Secret  Service. 

NOTES 

Good  Lord!    More  of  them! 
MILLIGAN  (saluting) 

Roundsman  Milligan,  sir,  33rd  Precinct. 
WILKS  (taking  command  at  once) 

WTio's  this  man? 


76  IN  THE  NET 


NOTES 

Why,  I'm  the  watchman,  sir,  been  here  thirty  years, 
sir. 

WILKS 
Get  out! 

NOTES 

I  beg  your  par.  .  .  . 
WILKS 

Get  out !  (Noyes  goes)    Now,  Milligan. 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 

WILKES 

How  many  men  in  the  building? 

MILLIGAN 

Fourteen,  sir. 
WILKS 

How  are  they  divided? 

MILLIGAN 

Three  each  roof  and  cellar,  four  upstairs,  six  on  this 
floor,  one  here. 
WILKS 
Seven  on  this  floor?    I  saw  only  five. 

MILLIGAN 

Two  hidden,  sir. 
WILKS 

Wasted!      Absolutely!      How    many    outside    the 
building? 

MILLIGAN 

One  every  fifty  feet  clear  around  the  block. 
WILKS 

What  orders? 


IX  THE  NET  77 


MILUGAN 

Let  anybody  in  —  let  nobody  out. 
WILKS 
Good.  Now.  .  .  . 

M1LLIGAN 

Beg  pardon,  sir. 
WILKS 
Yes? 

MILLIGAN 

Chief's  orders,  we're  to  let  him  open  the  safe  if  he 
comes. 
WILKS 
Correct. 

MILLIGAN 

There's  a  thousand  dollars  in  marked  bills  inside. 
WILKS 

I  gave  the  order. 

MILLIGAN 

You? 

WILKS 

We  haven't  got  anything  on  him.  If  we  grab  him 
when  he  comes  in,  we  can't  do  much.  If  we  let  him 
steal  the  money  it's  another  story.  We'll  send  him 
up  the  river  for  a  term. 

MILLIGAN 

Oh!    I  see!    Pretty  sharp. 

WILKS 

You  haven't  said   anything  to  —  (gesture  to  door) 

MILLIGAN 

To  Noyes?    No,  sir. 
WILKS 
Good.    Now,  how  about  this  room? 


78  IN  THE  NET 


MILLIGAN 

Been  over  every  inch,  sir. 
WILKS 
Windows? 

MILLIGAN 

Too  high  up.    Four  men  below  them  other  side. 
WILKS 
WaUs? 

MILLIGAN 

Sounded  every  inch. 
WILKS 
Floor? 

MILLIGAN 

No  trap  doors. 

WILKS 

Sure? 

MILLIGAN 

Had  a  carpenter  in. 

[Wilks  examines  the  room;  turns. 

WILKS 

So  this  is  the  safe? 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 

WILKS 

Burglar-proof. 

MILLIGAN 

So  they  say. 
WILKS 
And  Murdoch  thinks  he's  going  to  get  into  it! 

MILLIGAN 

Do  you  think  he's  coming? 


IN  THE  NET  79 


WILKS 

Coming?  (nodding  grimly)  Yes. 
MiLLiGAN  (examining  revolver) 
And  we'll  get  him. 

WILiKS 

No  shooting,  mind  you.    I'm  in  charge. 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir.     Er,  how  does  it  happen  that  the  Secret 
Service  is  after  him  too? 
WILKS  (wheeling  about  angrily) 
Milligan!    How  long  have  you  been  on  the  force? 

MILLIGAN 

Nine  years,  sir,  come  December. 
WILKS 

And  you  haven't  learnt  to  mind  your  business  yet? 

(Opening  the  door)    Xoyes! 
NOTES  (appearing  at  the  door) 

Yes,  sir. 
WILKS 

You  will  wait  out  here.    Don't  move  an  inch  from 

the  door.    Understand  me? 
NOYES 

Yes,  sir. 
WILKS  (closing  and  locking  door) 

All  right.     (Producing  wax  and  thread,  and  fastening 

thread  across  door)     See  this,  Milligan? 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 

WILKS 

Nobody  can  open  that  door  without  breaking  the 
thread. 


80  IN  THE  NET 


MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 

WILKS 

Come  here.  (Milligan  crosses  over)  Put  your  hand 
on  that  knob.  .  .  .  Now  don't  let  go  till  I  give 
you  the  word. 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 

WILKS 

Now  I'll  go  over  the  walls. 

[Wilks  begins  to  examine  the  walls  minutely.     The 

lights  suddenly  go  out. 

WILKS  (excitedly,  in  the  dark) 
Did  you  turn  out  the  lights? 

MILLIGAN  (with  equal  excitement) 
No,  sir. 

WILKS 

Then  —  (He  interrupts  himself  suddenly)     Ssh ! 
\_A  noise  is  heard,  as  of  a  man  tapping  the  face  of  the 
safe  with  a  hammer.     Milligan  gasps  audibly. 

MURDOCH'S  VOICE 

All  right,  officer,  I  know  you're  there. 
{There  is  a  flash  of  blinding  light  from  the  safe.  Mur 
doch  is  working  with  an  electric  arc,  which  illuminates 
his  face  perfectly,  but  shows  nothing  else.  He  uses 
the  arc  at  intervals,  alternating  its  use  with  that  of  a  chisel 
and  hammer. 

WILKS  (from  somewhere  in  the  background) 
How  are  you  getting  along,  Murdoch? 

MURDOCH 

Pretty  well.    (A  flash)   Say! 


IN  THE  NET  81 


WILKS 

Yes? 
MURDOCH  (after  a  pause) 

Haven't  I  heard  your  voice  before? 
WILKS 

Guess  so. 
MURDOCH  (a  flash) 

You're  Wilks,  aren't  you? 
WILKS 

Yes. 

MURDOCH 

Secret  Service,  by  Jove! 
WILKS 
Yes. 

MURDOCH 

It's  a  compliment,  Wilks;  it's  a  real  compliment! 
(A  pause;  a  brilliant  flash.  He  turns  to  the  policeman) 
And  who  may  you  be? 

M1LLJGAN 

Milligan;  33rd  Precinct. 

MURDOCH 

Only  a  copper! 

MILLJGAN 

Well,  I'll  get  you  just  the  same! 
MURDOCH     (in  an  aggrieved  tone,  after  a  pause) 

Expected  nothing  less  than  a  sergeant;  and  they 
only  send  a  cop! 

MILLIGAN 

Seventeen  hi  the  building. 
MURDOCH 

Ah,  that's  better.  (There  is  a  dazzling  flash)  So 
you'll  get  me? 


IN  THE  NET 


MILLIGAN 

Yes,  I'll  get  you! 

MURDOCH 

How  about  it,  Wilks? 
WILKS  (quietly) 

We'll  get  you. 
MURDOCH  (a  pause) 

Ho!    Ho!    (The  sound  of  the  hammer)    How's  your 

wife,  Wilks? 

WILKS 

Doing  nicely,  thanks. 

MURDOCH 

Don't  mention  it.     (There  is  a  flash)    Gee! 

MILLIGAN 

What  is  it? 

MURDOCH 

Getting  there. 
MILLIGAN  (excitedly) 

Now  the  time,  Mr.  Wilks? 

WILKS 

No,  you  fool ! 
MURDOCK  (after  a  pause) 

Don't  call  him  nasty  names,  Wilks! 
WILKS 

Milligan,  keep  your  hand  on  the  door  knob. 

MILLIGAN 

Yes,  sir. 
MURDOCH  (thoughtfully) 

Going  to  let  me  open  the  safe,  eh? 
WILKS 

Yes. 


IX  THE  NET  83 


MURDOCH 

Let  me  steal  the  money  inside? 

WILKS 

Yes. 

MURDOCH 

That's  nice  of  you:   mighty  nice.     (There  is  a  flash) 

By  the  way,  who  said  this  safe  was  burglar-proof? 
WILKS 

You  don't  think  so? 
MURDOCH  (flinging  open  the  door  with  a  clang) 

No! 

MILLIGAX 

Now  the  time? 
WILKS 

One  minute! 
MURDOCH 

Then  you  pinch  me,  eh? 

MILLIGAN 

Surest  thing  you  know.    You  think  you're  going  to  get 
away? 

MURDOCH     (with  limitless  assurance) 

I  know  I'm  going  to  get  away.     (There  is  total  dark 
ness  as  the  inner  door  of  the  safe  gives  noisily.     With 
only  a  second' 's  pause)    All  right!    I've  got  the  money 
Let  'er  go! 
[There  is  a  sound  of  running  feet. 

WILKS 

Lights!  Quick! 

MILLIGAN 

They  don't  work! 
WILKS 
Then  your  lamp,  man! 


84  IN  THE  NET 


MILLIGAN  (turning    on    his    pocket  flash    and    crossing 

hastily  to  the  electric  light  switch) 

The  wires  have  been  cut! 

[He  repairs  them  quickly.     The  lights  go  on.    A  wire 

leads  from  the  broken  place  to  a  carbon  pencil  at  the 

safe,  which  is  open,  and  wrecked.    Wilks  and  Milligan 

are  alone  in  the  room. 
WILKS 

Where  is  he? 
MILLIGAN  (running  about  the  room) 

I  saw  him  plain  as  day! 

WILKS 

Yes!    So  did  I!    Now  where  is  he? 

MILLIGAN 

He  must  be  here! 

WILKS  (crossing  hastily  to  the  door) 
The  thread  is  unbroken !    (He  tries  the  door)    Locked ! 
(The  two  men  run  excitedly  about  the  room,  looking  for 
Murdock  in  the  most  preposterous  places)     He  can't 
have  left  the  room!    It's  impossible! 

MILLIGAN 

He's  not  here,  sir. 

WILKS 

Rubbish!  He  must  be!  (He  walks  about  the  room 
impatiently,  glancing  at  the  windows,  the  walls,  the 
door.  He  stops  suddenly:  glares  at  Milligan;  then 
in  an  altered  tone  of  voice)  You  are  sure  he's  not  here? 

MILLIGAN  (startled) 
Yes. 

WILKS 

Well,  where's  he  gone?  He  didn't  vanish  into  thin 
air,  did  he? 


IX  THE   NET  85 


MILLJGAN  (hesitantly) 

Er,  no  ...  sir. 
WILKS 

Did  you  take  your  hand  off  that  door  knob? 

MILLJGAN 

WeU  .  .  . 

WILKS 

Answer  me! 

MILLJGAN 

Only  a  minute,  sir,  after  he  was  here. 
WILKS 

A  minute!    That  was  long  enough! 
MILLIGAN  (eagerly) 

But  the  thread  isn't  broken ! 
WILKS 

Eh?      (With    a    changed    expression,    and    suddenly 

visible  suspicion)    You  thought  of  the  thread,  did  you? 

MILLJGAN 

What  do  you  mean,  sir? 
WILKS  (crossing  to  the  door  quickly,  unlocking  it,  and 

throwing  it  open) 

I'll  show  you  what  I  mean!    Noyes! 
NOTES 

Yes,  sir. 
WILKS 

Come  in  here ! 

[Noyes  enters;   WUks  locks  the  door  behind  him. 
NOTES 

Didn't  show  up,  did  he,  sir? 

WILKS 

Didn't  show  up?    He's  been  here  and  gone!    Look! 


86  IN  THE  NET 


NOYES  (catching  sight  of  the  wrecked  safe) 

Good  Lord ! 
WILKS 

Here!    I  have  no  time  for  drivel.    You  stayed  out 
side  the  door? 
NOTES 

Yes,  sir. 
WILKS 

See  anybody  go  by? 
NOTES 

Why,  no,  sir. 
WILKS  (savagely) 

You  lie! 

NOTES 

What?  .  .  . 

WILKS 

Don't  try  any  of  that  on  me !  The  man's  been  here. 
He's  gone.  There's  no  other  way  out,  is  there? 
Now,  why  did  you  let  him  go?  Quick,  the  truth! 

NOTES 

I  swear  to  God,  sir  ... 
WILKS 

The  truth  I  want!    The  truth! 
NOTES  (doggedly) 

The  man  didn't  pass  that  door! 
WILKS  (in  a  towering  rage)    He  didn't,  eh?    Well,  I'll 

fix  you!    Give  me  your  gun!    (Noyes  does  so)    Hold 

out  your  hands! 

[He  handcuffs  him. 

NOTES 

Mr.  Inspector,  I  swear.  .  . 


IN  THE  NET  87 


WILKS 

Shut  up!  (Indicating  a  chair)  Go  over  there!  Sit 
down!  .  .  .  Now,  Milligan,  are  you  going  to  tell  the 
truth? 

MILLIGAN 

He  didn't  .  .  . 

WILKS  (interrupting) 

I  don't  care  what  he  didn't!    I  want  to  know  what 
he  did!    What  have  you  got  to  say? 

MILLIGAN 

Nothing,  sir. 

WILKS 

Well,  /'//  tell  you  what  happened!  You're  his  con 
federates!  You  and  the  watchman!  You  took  the 
thread  off  the  door  in  the  dark.  You  let  him  out  .  .  . 
yes,  the  two  of  you!  And  you  put  the  thread  back 
in  the  dark!  That's  what  you  did! 

MILLIGAN  (desperately) 
I  didn't  .  .  . 

WILKS 

Don't  give  me  any  back  talk!  You're  under  arrest! 
Your  gun!  Your  handcuffs!  (Handcuffing  him 
with  his  own  handcuffs)  Now,  I'll  fix  you!  I'll 
break  you  for  this,  by  George,  I'll  break  you!  Had 
the  man  here  under  your  thumb,  and  let  him  get 
away!  Let  him  get  away!  You  call  yourself  a  police 
man,  you  do?  \Vhy  you're  a  joke!  A  joke!  Ha! 
Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  (He  breaks  into  a  prolonged  peal  of 
laughter,  ivhich,  at  first  simply  sarcastic,  gradually 
becomes  exulting  and  boisterous.  Milligan  and  Noyes 
rise  as  if  hypnotized  and  watch  him)  Murdoch? 
Know  who  Murdoch  is,  you  fools?  Why,  Fm  Mur- 


88  IN  THE  NET 


doch!  (He  claps  on  bushy  eyebrows  and  a  moustache, 
and  speaks  in  Murdoch's  voice:)  How's  your  wife, 
Wilks?  (And  the  reply,  in  Wilks*  voice,  to  the  limitless 
surprise  of  his  prisoners,  comes  from  the  other  side  of 
the  room)  Doing  nicely,  thanks!  (He  whips  off  the 
eyebrows  and  moustache)  Didn't  know  I  was  a  ven 
triloquist,  did  you,  Milligan? 

[He  unlocks  the  door,  smiles,  is  gone,  and  the  door 
swings  shut  behind  him. 

MILLIGAN  (after   a   long  pause,  breaking    an    agonized 
silence) 

Now  what  I'd  like  to  know  is  who  in  hell's  going  to 
believe  us! 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

A  COMEDY 

OpiaSS 


CHARACTERS 

STEVE  TAYLOR 
TONY  MACABTHUB 
COBA  LANGLEY 
AN  INDIVIDUAL 


Copyright,  1922, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


A  WONDERFUL  WCftlAN 

The  living  room  in  a  nice,  but  not  too  nice  apartment. 
It  is  nice,  let  us  qualify  at  once,  because  it  has  possibilities: 
not  because  it  enters  or  even  approaches  the  luxury  class. 
It  is  the  kind  of  home  in  which  you  would  expect  to  find 
a  business  man  with  a  moderate,  but  sufficient  income. 
Then  you  look  again,  and  you  decide  that  no  plain  busi 
ness  man  ever  displayed  such  excellent  taste  in  selecting 
the  objects  with  which  to  surround  himself  in  his  moments 
of  leisure. 

The  walls  and  ceiling  have  been  done  over,  recently,  so 
we  judge,  in  a  pleasing  neutral  color  which  serves  as  an 
admirable  background.  But  the  furniture  is  obviously  not 
new,  and  some  of  it  is  not  placed  as  you  would  expect  to 
find  it  in  an  apartment  which  has  been  lived  in.  Its 
arrangement,  as  it  were,  has  not  yet  progressed  beyond  the 
experimental  stage.  In  months  to  come  the  inhabitants  of 
the  apartment  icitl  discover  that  the  couch  might  be  better 
placed  than  at  the  rear,  with  its  back  to  the  windows, 
threatening  unpleasant  drafts  to  the  persons  who  sit  on  it. 
This,  and  other  details,  await  the  mellowing  hand  of  time; 
for  with  use,  the  furniture  will  gradually  and  surely 
gravitate  where  it  belongs,  and  tJie  apartment  will  become 
as  comfortable  as  it  promises. 

Near  the  fireplace  is  a  nice  tabouret,  and  next  to  it  is  a 
huge  easy  chair.  This  is  correct,  for  the  man  of  the  house 


92  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

will  most  certainly  smoke  his  after-dinner  cigar  —  or 
pipe  —  hereabouts.  But  the  tabouret  is  decorated  with  a 
pipe  rack  filled  with  pipes  and  an  unopened  box  of  im 
ported  cigars,  and  both  of  these  things  are  wrong,  because 
pipe-racks  never  by  any  chance  contain  pipes,  and  be 
cause  no  moderately  well-off  business  man  would  leave  a 
box  of  his  favorite  cigars  in  so  exposed  a  location. 

On  the  couch  in  the  background  is  a  little  pile  of  odds 
and  ends:  framed  prints;  gaily  colored  bits  of  cloth; 
books;  milliners'  boxes;  curtains  which  have  not  yet  been 
hung.  Yet  the  signs  of  order  in  all  this  disorder  lead  you 
to  draw  two  excellent  conclusions:  first,  that  there  is  every 
evidence  of  a  woman's  touch,  and  second,  that  the  time  of 
year  is  October  first,  or  very  near  thereafter. 

The  future  tenants  are  evidently  in  the  throes  of  moving 
in.  Were  this  not  the  case  the  upright  piano  would  not, 
like  a  precipitous  island  in  a  lake,  tower  so  awkwardly 
in  the  precise  center  of  the  room.  It  is  placed  just  where 
you  can't  help  running  into  it.  No  matter  where  you  are 
going:  to  the  interior  of  the  apartment,  which  is  to  your 
right;  to  the  hall,  which  is  to  your  left;  or  to  the  uncur 
tained  windows,  which  are  somewhere  in  the  background, 
all  roads  lead  to  the  piano.  It  presides  over  the  scene  in 
splendid,  overpowering  isolation. 

As  the  curtain  rises  Steve  Taylor,  a  middle-aged 
man  dressed  with  a  degree  of  elegance  which  comports  illy 
with  this  modest  room,  stands  at  a  window,  loolcing  out 
into  the  street,  watching  something.  Perhaps  it  is  such 
fragments  of  a  sunset  as  are  visible  over  the  surrounding 
roofs;  more  probably  it  is  a  bit  of  exposed  lingerie  dis 
played  by  some  young  thing  dodging  a  delivery  wagon 
below. 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  93 

Tony  MacArthur,  Steve's  chum,  possibly  a  year  or 
two  younger  than  he,  stands  near  him  in  philosophic 
silence. 

There  is  a  pause:  a  pause  long  enough  to  permit  the 
members  of  the  audience  to  think  back  to  their  own 
October  firsts,  and  shudder  at  the  thought  that  the  date  is 
again  approaching.  Then  Tony  turns,  and  navigating 
skilfully  in  and  out  of  the  furniture,  approaches  the 
tabouret. 
STEVE 

What  are  you  doing,  Tony? 
TONY  (taking  up  the  box  of  cigars) 

Going  to  get  myself  a  smoke. 
STEVE  (dodging  hastily  to  his  side) 

Don't! 

TONY 

Why  not?  Nothing  wrong  with  them,  is  there? 
(He  reads  the  label)  "Corona  Corona."  That's  good 
enough  for  me. 

STEVE  (firmly) 

Put  'em  down,  Tony!  I  bought  those  because  she 
asked  me  to.  That  box  is  going  to  stay  unopened 
until  she  opens  it. 

TOXY  (putting  the  box  down  unth  a  sigh)    You're  a  sen 
timental  chap,  aren't  you,  Steve? 

STEVE  (nodding) 

Sentimental,  and  glad  of  it:  that's  why  they  fall 
for  me.  (He  produces  his  cigar  case)  Now  have  one 
of  my  cigars. 

TONY  (with  heroic  self-control) 

No;  I'll  do  without  a  smoke.  (He  crosses  to  the 
window)  You  don't  mind  if  I  look  at  the  scenery? 


94  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

STEVE  (laughing) 

Of  course  not! 
TONY 

I  thought  perhaps  you  might  want  her  to  see  it  first. 
STEVE 

No;  the  scenery  is  common  property. 
TONY 

Thanks;  I'll  look  at  some. 

[He  looks;  shakes  his  head. 
STEVE 

What  is  it? 

TONY 

Can't  say  I  think  much  of  it.  Moving  vans  across 
the  street;  moving  vans  this  side  of  the  street; 
moving  vans  both  ends  of  the  street;  furniture  piled 
on  the  sidewalk;  kids  scrambling  in  and  out  of 
your  car  —  (he  breaks  off)  By  George,  for  what 
you're  paying  for  this  place  you  ought  to  have  a  view 
of  Central  Park  with  the  Himalaya  mountains  in  the 
background! 

STEVE  (smiling) 

I'm  satisfied.  I'll  say  it's  worth  it;  and  cheap,  too, 
compared  with  what  it  used  to  be!  You  know  what 
Florrie  cost  me:  an  apartment  on  Riverside  Drive, 
rent  three  times  what  this  will  be;  her  own  car; 
liveried  chauffeur;  servants;  and  a  thirst  which  would 
have  burnt  the  lining  out  of  another  fellow's  pocket- 
book! 

TONY 

It's  a  pity  Florrie  left  you. 

STEVE 
Pity?    Don't  waste  any  of  it  on  me!    Why,  that  night 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  95 

she  came  to  me  and  said,  "Listen,  honey,  I've  signed 
a  contract  to  go  to  Hollywood  and  work  for  the 
movies,"  I  felt  like  pinching  myself  to  make  sure  I 
was  awake. 
TOXY 

You  liked  Florrie,  didn't  you? 

STEVE 

I  was  crazy  about  her  —  for  a  month.  Then  for 
two  or  three  months  I  was  luke  to  middling.  And 
then  — 

TONY 

And  then? 

STEVE 

To  be  candid,  after  six  months  it  struck  me  that  it 
was  so  much  simpler  to  let  a  million  movie  fans  pay 
fifteen  cents  a  night  apiece  to  support  her  than  to 
try  and  do  the  whole  thing  myself. 

TOXY  (laughing) 

Getting  economical  in  your  old  age? 

STEVE 

Who  says  I'm  old?    She  doesn't  think  so. 
TOXY 

WTio?    Florrie? 

STEVE 

No!     I'm  through  with  Florrie  —  remember  that. 
TOXY 

Then  it's  the  new  one.     (Steve  nods)    Steve,  honest, 

how  did  it  start? 
STEVE 

How  did  what  start? 

TOXY 

You  know  what  I  mean.  WTiere  did  you  meet  her? 
And  who  is  she? 


96  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

STEVE 

You  don't  know  her. 
TONY 

If  I  did  I  wouldn't  be  asking  about  her.    What  is  she? 

A  shop-girl,  poor,  but  honest? 
STEVE  (hesitantly) 

No;    she's  —  she's  a  newspaper  woman. 
TONY  (astonished) 

A  reporter?    (Steve  nods)    Well,  you  always  did  have 

queer  tastes,  but  I  thought  there  was  a  limit!    A 

newspaper  woman?    I  call  that  downright  immoral! 
STEVE 

Wait  till  you  see  her. 
TONY 

But  a  reporter! 
STEVE  (with  assurance) 

Tony,  she    doesn't  look    it!     Honest,  she   doesn't. 

She'll  be  here  any  minute  now,  and  then  you  can  see 

for  yourself. 
TONY 

And  I  won't  look  with  the  eyes  of  love,  oh,  no!    I'll 

turn  my  calm,  fishy  orb  on  her,  and  right  there  you'll 

lose  a  friend!    (He  pauses)    Go  on:  break  the  news 

to  me  gently.    Tell  me  how  you  met  her. 
STEVE 

She  came  to  interview  me :   nothing  could  be  simpler. 
TONY 

Catch  a  man  by  appealing  to  his  vanity:    nothing 

new  about  that.    Of  course  you  fell. 
STEVE 

I  did,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  it.    I  fell  hard.    The 

moment  I  saw  her  I  said,  "There's  the  successor  to 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  97 

Florrie!"    Such  eyes!    And  such  lips!    And  such — 

TOXY 

Did  you  give  her  the  benefit  of  those  anatomical 

details? 

/ jj       -  j\  a  M  d?    T 

STEVE  ( flurried) 

What? 

TONY 

Is  that  how  you  greeted  her? 

STEVE 

Well,  hardly.     Not  the  first  time,  at  any  rate. 
TOXY  (with  lofty  approbation) 

I'm  glad  there's  some  delicacy  left  in  you. 
STEVE 

Delicacy?    Why,  I'm  nothing  but  delicacy!    That's 

my  middle  name. 
TONY  (dryly) 

So  I've  been  told. 

STEVE 

Will  you  believe  it,  I  haven't  kissed  her  yet! 

TOXY 

If  that's  a  question,  my  answer  is  "  No!" 

STEVE 

It's  the  truth,  'pon  my  word!    (Idyllically)    My  lips 
have  never  touched  hers ! 
TONY  (thoughtfully) 

Well,  as  you're  not  lacking  in  enterprise  — 
\_He  pauses. 

STEVE 

Go  on. 

TONY 

I'll  assume  —  as  I  intimated  before,  that  it's  the 
kind  of  face  you  can't  kiss  unless  it's  related  to  you. 


98  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

STEVE  (irritated) 

Is  that  so?    Well,  don't  you  try  to  claim  relationship 

when  you  meet  her ! 
TONY  (imperturbably) 

I  won't.     Go  on  with  your  denatured  love  story. 

Tell  me  more  about  the  unkissed  one.    Tell  me  how 

you  started  to  grow  romantic. 
STEVE 

The  romance  has  been  all  on  my  side  —  so  far.    (He 

sighs)     Tony,  after  I'd  taken  her  out  to  supper  a 

couple  of  times,  I  told  her  I  was  a  married  man. 
TONY 

Then  I  suppose  she  started  to  cry. 
STEVE 

Nothing  like  it.    She  wasn't  even  surprised:  said  she 

knew  that  before  she  came  to  interview  me.     Said 
'  she  was  wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  I'd 

tell  her. 

TONY 

What  then? 

STEVE 

I  made  a  clean  breast  of  it.     I  told  her  the  whole 
story:  how  I  couldn't  get  along  with  my  wife,  and 
how  she  spends   most  of  the  year  in  Paris.     She 
mentioned  she  knew  that  also.     Then  —  ahem  —  I 
gradually  led  up  to  Florrie,  and  before  I  knew  it, 
I'd  blurted  out  the  whole  thing:    the  whole  blamed 
story  from  the  time  I  met  her  till  the  day  she  left 
me  to  go  into  the  movies. 
TONY 
That  was  tactful,  wasn't  it? 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 


STEVE 

I  don't  know  why  not.    She  was  very  sympathetic. 

TOXY 

Laughing  up  her  sleeve! 

STEVE 

Don't  you  believe  it.  I  wouldn't  have  gone  any 
further  if  she'd  been  like  that.  (He  smiles)  When 
I  got  through,  she  mentioned  that  I  hadn't  told 
her  anything  she  didn't  know. 

TOXY 

I  suppose  she  had  interviewed  Florrie  before  she  met 
you. 

STEVE 

She  did.    Funny  coincidence,  isn't  it? 

TOXY 

Funny  nothing!  Being  a  prudent  maid,  she  was 
getting  references.  (As  Steve  does  not  speak)  WTiat's 
on  your  mind? 

STEVE 

I'm  thinking:  thinking  of  what  happened  after 
wards.  I  took  her  uptown  that  night  in  my  car. 
It  was  a  lovely  moonlit  night  — 

TONY 

It  generally  is. 

STEVE 

I  made  her  a  proposition. 
TOXY 

And  she  accepted  like  a  shot. 
STEVE  (shaking  his  head) 

She  said  she'd  think  it  over. 
TOXY  (incredulously 

Think  it  over?     When  she  knew  who  you  were? 

And  how  much  you  could  afford  to  spend  on  her? 


100  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

STEVE 

Yes. 

r       S 
TONY 


C 


I've  got  it:  she's  an  heiress  in  disguise! 
STEVE 

Then  it's  a  mighty  good  disguise!    Working  on  a 

newspaper,   and  living  in  242nd  Street!     Nothing 

fishy  about  that,  is  there? 
TONY 

No;   I  suppose  not. 

STEVE 

Of  course  not! 

TONY 

Then  she  thought  over  your  offer,  and  accepted. 

STEVE  (shaking  his  head) 

Not  so  fast.  First  she  made  me  show  her  the  apart 
ment  I'd  rented  for  Florrie.  It's  for  rent,  furnished, 
you  know.  I  took  her  through  it. 

TONY 

And  she  didn't  grab  it? 

STEVE 

She  didn't  care  for  it :  not  at  all.  Said  the  furniture 
was  in  wretched  taste. 

TONY 

That's  something  in  her  favor. 

STEVE  (sincerely) 

You  bet  it  is!  Then  she  looked  out  of  the  window: 
that  view  across  the  Hudson,  you  know,  and  said  she 
didn't  like  Riverside  Drive:  it  wasn't  homey.  Said 
she  preferred  a  place  where  a  man  could  smoke  a 
pipe  and  be  comfortable.  (He  waves  his  hand) 
Here's  the  answer. 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  101 

TONY 

I'll  say  it's  not  half  bad. 

STEVE  (nodding  complacently) 

Look  at  the  furniture :  didn't  cost  me  a  sou  —  all 
hers,  every  stick  of  it.  Had  it  moved  down  here 
from  242nd  Street.  Just  one  thing  she  insisted  on: 
I  had  made  her  a  business  proposition.  She  came 
back  with  another.  She  said  this  was  almost  as 
serious  as  marriage:  she  wanted  to  feel  protected. 

TONY 

That  means  a  sable  coat. 

STEVE  (shaking  his  head) 

L   No;  just  the  lease  of  this  apartment  in  her  name,  a 
year  paid  in  advance. 

TONY  (astonished) 

.    Was  that  all?    No  car?    No  chauffeur?    No  accounts 
at  the  stores? 

STEVE 

Not  even  a  weekly  allowance!  A  signed  lease  to  this 
place,  and  the  landlord's  receipt  for  a  year's  rent. 
I  gave  them  to  her  last  night.  And  that's  all  there  is! 

TONY 

Well,  I  never  heard  anything  to  beat  that.  She  must 
love  you.  (Steve  tries  hard  to  look  modest)  That's 
the  only  possible  answer:  she  must  be  simply  mad 
about  you.  Lucky  fellow!  (He  slaps  the  triumphant 
Steve  on  the  back)  Why  can't  they  fall  for  me  like 
that?  I'm  as  good  looking  as  you  are.  (In  wandering 
away  he  stumbles  against  the  piano)  Ouch! 

STEVE 

Hurt  yourself? 


102  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

•£ 

( 

TONY  0V^c^Jl~ 

What's  the  piano  doing  here? 
STEVE  (anxiously) 

What's  the  matter?  Do  y©u  think  it  belongs  some- 
wheres  else? 

TONY 

I  don't  know.    But  it  certainly  doesn't  belong  here. 
STEVE 

I'm  glad  you  noticed  it,  Tony. 
TONY 

You  can  bet  she  didn't  put  it  there. 
STEVE 

No :  it  came  half  an  hour  ago*   I  told  the  men  where 

to  put  it. 
TONY 

I  thought  so. 

STEVE 

Where  would  you  put  it? 

TONY 

I  don't  know.    But  I'd  move  it. 
STEVE  (removing  his  coat) 
You  shall. 

TONY 

What  do  you  mean? 

STEVE 
You  don't  expect  me  to  shove  it  around  all  by  myself? 

TONY 

I'm  not  a  piano  mover! 

STEVE 

Neither  am  I.  Come  on,  Tony.  (Grumblingly,  Tony 
removes  his  coat,  and  takes  the  opposite  end  of  the  piano) 
Don't  shove  it:  lift  it.  You'll  scratch  the  floor. 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  103 

There!  (They  have  moved  it  to  a  place  a  little  worse 
chosen,  if  possible.  They  stand  off  and  look  at  their 
handiwork)  How  do  you  like  it  now? 

TONY 

Rotten! 

STEVE 

What's  the  matter  now? 

TONY 

Not  much;  only  you  can't  open  the  door.  (Hastily) 
But  you  don't  have  to  move  it  again.  You  can  have 
another  door  cut  through  here. 

STEVE 

Fine!  That  would  give  us  a  private  entrance  into 
the  next  apartment.  On  the  job,  Tony.  (They 
attack  the  piano  again,  and  plant  it  near  the  fireplace) 
How's  that? 

TONY  (mopping  his  forehead) 

I'm  not  going  to  give  you  any  more  opinions!  You 
wait  until  she  comes,  and  she'll  tell  you  where  she 
wants  it. 

STEVE 
Rotter! 

[The  door  to  the  hall  opens,  and  Cora  Langley  enters. 
She  is  what  you  would  expect  from  the  foregoing: 
plainly  dressed,  but  well  dressed;  nice  looking,  but  not 
flamboyantly  nice  looking;  self-possessed;  refined; 
gracious;  dignified;  and  withal,  attractive  in  no  un 
certain  manner. 

CORA 
Steve! 

STEVE 

Cora!     (He  goes  to  her  with  open  arms.    She  raises 


104  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

her   eyebrows   the   least   trifle.     He   controls   himself; 

offers  his  hand,  which  she  takes) 

Cora,  I  want  you  to  meet  my  best  friend,  Tony 

MacArthur. 
CORA 

So  this  is  Tony!    How  do  you  do,  Mr.  MacArthur? 

I've  heard  Steve  speak  of  you  so  much  that  I  feel 

as  if  I  almost  knew  you. 
TONY  (embarrassed   because   of  his   coatless   condition) 

Pardon  my  appearance. 

[He  makes  a  dive  for  his  coat. 
CORA 

Oh,  don't  bother  putting  it  on.    I  don't  mind. 
STEVE  (turning  delightedly  to  Tony) 

What  did  I  tell  you?    She's  a  regular  girl! 
CORA  (completing  her  thought) 

Besides,  you'll  have  to  move  the-^iano  again. 

[She  stands  looking  about  the  place  happily. 
STEVE 

Well,  how  do  you  like  it?    Our  little  home!  /\  (_ 
CORA 

It  has  possibilities:   it  has  great  possibilities.    With 

a  few  pictures  on  the  walls;   and  cushions  here  and 

there;  and  everything  comfy !  It  needs  just  one  thing: 

the  woman's  touch. 
STEVE  (tenderly) 

And  you're  here  to  supply  that! 
CORA 

I'm  here  to  supply  that! 

[Through  the  hall  door  enters  a  curious  individual. 

He  is  a  thin,  sallow  man  of  some  forty-odd  years,  none 

too  well  dressed.    His  bird-like  nose  is  decorated  with 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  105 

a  pair  of  steel-rimmed  spectacles:  his  hair  is  sparse  to 

middling:  his  general  attitude  one  of  retiring  pessimism. 

He  is  mild:   very  mild  indeed,  and  polite:   polite  to  a 

fault.    It  is  easy  to  see  that  he  is  either  highly  educated 

or  not  educated  at  all. 

This  individual  trickles  into  the  room,  so  to  speak,  for 

his  entrance  could  not  be  more  unassuming.    In  either 

hand  he  carries  a  suitcase. 

Once  inside  the  door  he  stands,  and  inspects  the  room 

carefully.      The    men,    noticing    him,    smile.      Steve 

nudges  Cora. 

CORA 

Oh!     (She  watches  the  Individual  for  a  second)    Like 

it?     (The  Individual  nods.     Steve  and  Tony  laugh. 

The  Individual  bends  a  look  of  mild  reproach  upon 

them)    Never  mind,  James.    Take  the  bags  into  the 

next  room.    Through  that  door. 

[_ The  Individual  nods,  and  goes. 
STEVE 

Where  did  you  find  him? 
CORA  (smiling) 

He's  funny,  isn't  he? 
TONY 

Queer  things  come  out  after  the  rain. 
CORA 

But  he's  useful;  and  he  works  hard;  and  he  doesn't 

answer  back.    (He  turns  to  the  men)    Now  suppose  we 

put  a  few  things  in  order.     This  piano  certainly 

doesn't   belong  here. 

STEVE 

Where  does  it  belong? 


106  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

CORA 

Let  me  think. 

[Upon  the  last  few  words  the  Individual  has  r centered, 
minus  the  suitcases,  and  overhearing,  stops  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  to  revolve  the  question  in  his  own  thoughts 
as  well.  Cora  goes  to  him,  and  points  to  a  likely  spot  for 
the  piano.  The  Individual  shakes  his  head  resolutely. 
Cora  indicates  another  possible  location.  The  indi 
vidual  ponders.  Cora  suggests  a  third  spot.  The 
Individual  comes  to  a  decision,  and  indicates  with  his 
forefinger,  without  speaking  a  word,  just  how  the  piano 
should  be  placed.  Then  he  oozes  out  through  the  hall 

.    door. 

STEVE  (staggered) 

What  do  you  think  of  that? 

CORA 

He's  right,  though,  isn't  he? 

TONY 

I  don't  know.  The  piano's  at  least  three  inches  too 
long  to  fit  in  there. 

CORA  (positively) 

Impossible.  He  never  makes  a  mistake  about  those 
things. 

STEVE 

All  right,  we'll  try  it.    Come  on,  Tony. 

[They  move  the  piano  to  the  place  indicated.    It  fits  to  a 

hair. 

TONY 

He  was  right! 
CORA 

Of  course  he  was  right.    He's  always  right. 
[The  Individual  r centers.     This  time  he  is  carrying  a 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  107 

small  steamer  trunk  on  his  back.  All  three  look  at  him 
curiously.  Not  a  whit  abashed,  he  halts  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  and  encumbered  by  the  trunk,  makes  a  gesture 
which  might  mean  anything  or  nothing.  Cora  goes  to 
him.  Again  he  gestures.  She  understands. 

CORA 

He  thinks  the  curtains  shouldn't  be  left  on  the  sofa. 

{The  Individual  nods,  and  goes. 

STEVE  (doubtfully) 

Do  you  think  we  can  hang  'em? 

CORA 

I  don't  know  why  not.    The  rods  are  in  them. 

TONY 

So  they  are!  (He  holds  up  a  curtain)  Come  on, 
Steve;  let's  put  'em  up.  I'm  beginning  to  like  this: 
it's  like  playing  house. 

[As  they  look  about  for  something  on  which  to  stand, 
the  Individual  reenters.  They  gaze  at  him.  He  under 
stands  at  once:  shuffles  out  to  the  hall,  and  returns  with 
a  chair,  which  when  properly  broken  in  half,  and  stood 
upon  its  head,  becomes  a  stepladder.  He  place j  tJiis 
at  a  window,  and  goes  out  to  the  hall. 

STEVE  (amazed) 

What  is  he?   A  mind  reader? 

CORA  (laughing) 

I  told  you  he  was  useful. 

TOXY  (mounting  the  ladder) 
He's  uncanny! 
[He  proceeds  with  the  business  of  hanging  curtains. 

STEVE  (finding  his  chum  thus  occupied,  believes  he  has 
discovered  an  appropriate  moment  for  a  little  romance. 


108  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

He  sidles  over  to  Cora)    Cora!    Our  own  little  place! 
(She  smiles)    Our  own  little  love  nest! 

CORA 

Do  you  like  it  better  than  Florrie's? 
STEVE 

No  comparison! 
CORA 

And  this  doesn't  cost  half  as  much. 
STEVE 

Well,  really,  I  don't  care  about  that,  you  know. 

What  I  like  about  this  place  is  —  it's  a  home !     (He 

comes  nearer  to  her)     But  even  that  doesn't  matter. 

There's  only  one  thing  that  matters,  and  that's  you! 

You!     You're  worth  anything  you  cost! 
CORA 

Even  if  I  don't  cost  a  great  deal? 
TONY  (from  the  ladder) 

Steve!     I  wish  you'd  come  here  a  minute! 
STEVE  (disregarding  him)     Cora!   Think  of  the  two  of 

us:    hand  in  hand! 
CORA  (with  a  whimiscal  smile) 

I  can  picture  what  it  will  be  like:  a  winter  evening; 

the  fire  burning;    shades  drawn;    and  ho  light,  ex 
cept  the  light  from  the  fire! 
STEVE 

Cora! 

CORA 

Outside  stars  in  the  heavens;  the  crisp  cold  air  of  a 
midwinter  night;    not  a  cloud  in  the  moonlit  sky; 
snow  underfoot,  snow,    crisp    and    crunching  — 
TONY  (interrupting) 

If  you  two  don't  stop  discussing  the  weather,  I'm 
going  to  drop  this  curtain! 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  109 

CORA 

Cosy!  Could  anything  be  more  cosy! 
[She  sighs.  Steve  sighs.  He  feels  an  irresistible  im 
pulse  to  kiss  her.  Being  irresistible,  he  would  probably 
give  in  to  it,  when  from  the  hall  enters  the  Individual, 
laboring  this  time  with  a  valise  and  a  cage  containing 
a  canary.  He  takes  in  the  situation,  steps  up  to  Steve 
masterfully,  and  touches  him  on  the  shoulder.  Steve, 
rapt  in  Cora's  dithyrambics,  starts  up  with  some  show 
of  annoyance.  The  Individual  raises  a  soothing  hand, 
and  shakes  his  head.  If  he  were  to  speak,  he  would 
doubtless  say,  "Naughty!  Naughty!"  Even  though 
he  does  not  open  his  lips,  the  thought  is  clearly  evident. 
Steve  controls  himself  with  an  effort.  The  Individual 
points  a  mildly  suggestive  finger  in  the  direction  of  Tony, 
who  is  almost  falling  off  the  ladder  with  laughter,  and 
as  Steve,  hypnotized,  moves  in  the  indicated  direction, 
favors  him  with  a  paternal  smile.  This  accomplished, 
he  takes  up  his  burdejis,  which  he  has  been  compelled 
to  set  down,  and  carries  them  into  the  interior  of  the 
apartment. 

STEVE  (who  has  nearly  reached  the  ladder  before  exploding, 
wheels  indignantly) 

I  don't  want  to  hang  curtains!  I'd  much  rather  talk 
to  you! 

CORA 
Steve,  there's  a  time  for  everything. 

STEVE 

The  nerve  of  the  man! 
CORA  (smiling) 

He  has  a  way  with  him,  hasn't  he? 


110  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

STEVE  (indignantly) 

Well,  he  hasn't  a  way  with  me !    Not  by  a  long  shot ! 
What  did  you  bring  him  along  for? 

CORA     (vaguely) 
Oh,  he  just  came. 

STEVE 
Then  he  might  as  well  go! 

CORA 
Shh! 

\_The  Individual  enters  sedately.  Steve,  having  reached 
the  boiling  point,  is  about  to  say  something  violent  to 
him,  when  the  Individual  turns  with  a  disarming  smile, 
and  a  gesture  to  the  curtains.  Somehow  or  other  his 
action  takes  the  wind  out  of  Steve's  sails.  Speechless, 
he  picks  up  a  curtain,  and  passes  it  to  the  patient  Tony. 
The  Individual,  on  his  way  to  the  hall,  observes  the  box 
of  cigars.  He  smiles  with  pleasure,  deliberately  opens 
it,  extracts  one,  and  lights  it  as  he  goes  out. 
The  men  have  watched  his  extraordinary  proceeding 
in  fascinated  silence.  As  he  goes  Tony  bursts  out. 

TONY 

And  you  wouldn't  let  me  have  one! 

STEVE  (paralyzed) 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  to  beat  that?  ' 

CORA  (hastily) 

It's  all  right.     He's  a  little  queer:    you've  got  to 
humor  him;   let  him  have  his  own  way. 

STEVE  (furiously) 

Let  him  have  his  own  way?    He's  not  waiting  for  us 
to  let  him!     (He  strides  to  the  tabouret,  takes  up  the 
cigar  box,  and  offers  it  to  Tony)    Tony,  help  yourself. 
\The  Individual  enters  with  a  tin  wash  basin,  a  large 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  111 

sponge,  and  a  quantity  of  towels.  He  sees  what  is 
happening,  shakes  his  head  reproachfully,  and  quietly 
takes  the  box  out  of  Steve's  hands,  Tony  has  already 
helped  himself  to  a  cigar.  The  Individual  relieves  him 
of  it,  much  as  a  mother  would  take  the  jam  bottle  from 
a  child.  Then,  from  his  own  pocket,  he  produces  a 
pair  of  those  thin,  contorted  affairs  commercially  known 
as  Pittsburg  stogies,  and  benignantly  hands  one  to 
Steve  and  another  to  Tony.  He  goes  out. 

STEVE  (looking  at  his  prize  with   consternation) 
Tony,  did  you  get  one  also? 

TONY 
Look! 

CORA  (laughing) 

Don't  you  understand?  With  your  coats  off,  he  thinks 
you  are  furniture  movers! 

STEVE 
Furniture  movers? 

CORA 

Of  course!  Isn't  it  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world?  Wouldn't  anybody  think  so  to  watch  the 
two  of  you? 

TONY  (with  sudden  comprehension) 

And  he  thinks  he's  saving  the  boss'  cigars! 

CORA 
Exactly! 

STEVE 

But  he  isn't  saving  them  from  himself! 
CORA  (lightly) 

He  helped  me  the  last  time  I  moved.    Perhaps  he 

thinks  he's  privileged. 

[The  Individual,  who  retreated  to  the  hall  from  his  last 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 


sally,  r  centers  with  the  strangest  burden  of  all.  He  is 
not  carrying  it  this  time:  he  is  pushing  it.  It  is  nothing 
less  than  a  canopied  baby  carriage,  and  the  sensation 
he  produces  as  the  men  catch  sight  of  it  is  terrific  — 
illimitable  —  undescribable.  The  Individual  seems 
quite  unconscious  of  it.  Calmly  he  wheels  the  thing 
into  the  center  of  the  room,  stops,  and  surveys  the  tout 
ensemble.  The  piano  is  where  it  ought  to  be;  the  cur 
tains  are  hung;  the  odds  and  ends  have  disappeared; 
a  few  pictures,  thanks  to  Cora,  have  miraculously 
sprouted  on  the  walls:  the  place  looks  quite  habitable, 
and  thoroughly  inviting.  Thw  Individual  takes  in 
these  details,  produces  a  well-worn  black  leather  coin 
purse,  opens  it,  and  carefully  takes  out  two  quarter 
dollars.  Then,  with  another  of  his  beautiful  smiles,  he 
hands  a  coin  to  each  of  the  men,  murmuring  audibly: 
"Thank  you;  you  can  go  now."  They  are  so  completely 
thunderstruck  that  they  simply  accept  the  coins,  and 
watch  him  in  dumb  amazement  as  he  places  the  basin, 
sponge,  and  towels  in  the  baby  carriage,  tops  the  pile 
neatly  with  the  box  of  cigars,  and  wheels  the  whole  in 
credible  affair  into  the  interior  of  the  apartment. 
Steve  and  Tony  stand  looking  after  him  in  limitless 
amazement.  Finally  Steve  turns  to  Tony. 

STEVE 
Tony,  did  you  see  what  I  saw? 

TONY 
A  baby  carriage! 

STEVE 

A  baby  carriage!  What's  it  doing  here?  That's  what 
I'd  like  to  know!  (He  turns  terrifically  on  Cora) 
Cora,  who  is  that  man? 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  113 

[On  the  instant  there  is  the  sound  of  water  running 

into  the  tin  basin.     The  men  start  as  if  shot. 
CORA  (And  throughout  the  last  few  minutes  there  has  been 

a  curious  expression  about  her  mouth) 

It's  nothing:   he's  giving  the  baby  a  bath. 
STEVE 

The  —  the  baby? 
TONY 

Yes;    that's  what  she  said. 
STEVE  (terrifically) 

The  baby?   WTiose  baby? 
CORA  (innocently) 

WTiose  baby? 
STEVE 

Yes!  Tell  me!    Whose  baby? 
CORA  (simply) 

My  baby.    (The  men  collapse.    She  surveys  them  with 

a  pitying  smile.     Then  she  beckons  to  the  fireplace) 

Come  here.    Sit  down.    There  are  some  things  I  want 

to  explain  to  you. 
TONY  (acutely  conscious  that  this  does  not  concern  him) 

I  guess  I'll  be  going. 

CORA 

No;  you  too,  Tony!  It  won't  hurt  you  a  bit  to 
listen.  Come,  sit  down.  (Limply  the  men  pull  up 
chairs.  Steve's  condition  may  be  succinctly  described 
by  the  single  adjective  "punctured."  Tony  is  too 
completely  crushed  to  enjoy  his  friend's  discomfiture) 
There! 

STEVE 

Before  you  begin:    (he  jerks  his  thumb  towards  the 


114  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

door  through  which  the  Individual  has  disappeared) 

who  is  that  man? 
CORA 

My  husband. 
STEVE  (forlornly) 

D'ye  know,  I  had  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  something 

was  wrong!     (He  slumps  lower  in  his  chair)     Now, 

go  on. 
CORA  (kindly) 

Steve,  you  consider  yourself  a  judge  of  women. 

STEVE 

I  used  to. 

CORA 

Yes;  I  could  see  that  the  first  time  I  met  you.  Do  you 
remember?  They  had  sent  me  to  your  office  to  in 
terview  you.  I  was  impressed.  Any  girl  would  have 
been  impressed.  The  secretaries,  and  the  assistant 
secretaries,  and  the  clerks,  and  the  office  boys,  and 
the  little  slip  on  which  I  had  to  explain  my  business 
before  you  could  be  disturbed;  and  then,  your  pri 
vate  office,  the  paintings  on  the  walls,  the  marvellous 
rugs  on  the  floor,  the  subdued  light,  the  subtle  sug 
gestion  of  wealth;  why,  I  thought  I  should  never 
pluck  up  enough  courage  to  walk  those  few  steps  to 
your  desk,  sit  down,  flip  open  my  notebook,  and  ask 
you  questions !  (She  shakes  her  head  at  the  recollection) 
But  I  did  it!  I  trembled  in  my  boots,  but  I  did  it! 
I  had  expected  that  when  I  looked  into  your  eyes  I 
would  find  them  dreaming:  dreaming  of  new  plans; 
new  fields  for  your  activities;  new  mergers,  perhaps. 
But  when  I  looked  I  could  read  just  one  thought: 
"She's  a  pretty  girl;  a  deuced  pretty  girl;  and  I 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  115 

know  everything  there  is  to  know  about  pretty  girls!" 
Oh,  Steve!  (She  has  struck  home.  After  a  little  while 
she  continues)  You  were  thinking  just  one  thought: 
"What  a  successor  to  Florrie!  She's  pretty;  I'm 
rich.  So  there  you  are!"  Steve,  for  a  man  who 
considers  himself  a  judge  of  women,  you  made  an 
awful  mistake!  I  felt  like  telling  you  that  even  be 
fore  you  spoke;  it  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to 
tell  you  — 

STEVE  (interrupting) 
Why  didn't  you? 

CORA  (looking  him  right  in  the  eyes) 

It  came  to  me  abruptly  that  if  a  man  had  lived  as 
long  as  you,  and  didn't  know  the  difference  between 
my  kind  of  women  and  —  well  —  Florrie's  kind,  it 
was  about  time  that  he  learned  a  lesson.  I  didn't 
encourage  you.  I  didn't  lead  you  on.  Give  me  credit 
for  that. 

STEVE 

I  do.    I  do. 

CORA 

I  didn't  intend  to  go  as  far  as  this  at  first,  but  when 
you  suggested  renting  an  apartment  for  me  — 

STEVE  (with  a  smile) 

And  agreed  to  put  the  lease  in  your  name,  and  pay 
a  year's  rent  in  advance  — 

CORA  (nodding) 

It  occurred  to  me  that  the  lesson  might  be  worth  it! 
(She  pauses)  Steve,  in  your  life  you've  wasted  a 
good  deal  of  time  and  a  good  deal  of  money  on  women. 
Here's  some  time  and  some  money  that  haven't 
been  wasted!  If  it  will  make  you  happier,  think  of 


116  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

what  it  cost  you  as  a  fine  for  not  knowing  a  good 
woman  when  you  saw  one! 

[From  the  bathroom  in  the  interior  of  the  apartment 
comes  a  thinnish  voice  raised  in  the  strains  of  "I 
dreamt  that  I  dwelt  in  marble  halls."  With  varying 
emotions,  all  listen. 

STEVE 
What  does  he  do  for  a  living? 

TONY 

He's  not  a  singer. 

CORA 

No.  He's  an  instructor  in  mathematics  at  the  Uni 
versity. 

TONY 

I  knew  that  the  moment  I  heard  him  sing. 

CORA  (smiles.     Then  she  continues) 

He's  a  nice  chap;  home-loving;  and  clever —  clever 
as  they  make  them!  Some  day  he'll  make  his  mark. 
But  in  the  meantime,  it's  pretty  hard  sledding  for  a 
family  of  three  on  an  instructor's  salary,  even  if  you 
add  what  I  earn.  Food  is  so  high;  and  shoes;  and 
things  for  the  baby.  (The  voice  in  the  distance  splits 
triumphantly  on  a  high  note.  Cora  listens  dreamily) 
Poor  dear!  He's  so  impractical. 

STEVE  (with  a  gasp) 
Does  he  know? 

CORA 

Not  a  word;  and  what's  more,  he'll  never  suspect. 
(The  song  becomes  a  duet  as  the  crying  of  a  baby  sud 
denly  joins  it.  Tht  song  stops.  The  crying  continues) 


A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN  117 

You'd  best  be  going  now.  He'll  be  needing  my  help 
in  a  minute. 

[7/i  eloquent  silence  the  men  put  on  their  coats  and  move 
towards  the  door. 

STEVE 

Before  I  go,  just  one  question. 

CORA 

Yes? 

STEVE 

Was  that  your  only  reason:  because  I  didn't  know 
the  difference  —  between  you  —  and  some  other 
women? 

CORA  (after  a  little  hesitation) 
No. 

STEVE 

What  was  the  other  reason? 

CORA  (looks  into  his  eyes:   laughs) 

Well,  if  you  must  know,  rents  are  so  terribly  high! 
[Steve  nods.  Just  why  we  don't  understand,  but  he 
seems  to  draw  infinite  consolation  from  this  last  state 
ment.  He  bows  with  grace  surprising  in  a  man  of  his 
years. 

STEVE 

Mrs.  Langley,  you're  a  wonderful  woman! 

[He  offers  his  hand.    She  shakes  it.    Steve  and  Tony 

go.     Cora,  smiling  closes  the  door  after  them.     The 

baby's    crying    has    ceased    abruptly.      Evidently    the 

mathematician  has  managed  without  her  help.     It  has 

grown  darker.     She  goes  to  the  window,   and  pulls 

down  the  shades.    She  lights  the  lights. 

It  is  really  a  very  charming  apartmmt:   Cora  seems  to 

say  this.    But  the  fireside  is  the  center  of  the  home.    She 


118  A  WONDERFUL  WOMAN 

scratches  a  match;  turns  on  the  gas  logs.  There  are 
two  chairs  at  the  hearth.  She  arranges  them  to  her 
exact  liking.  Next  to  one  she  puts  a  pipe,  an  ash  tray, 
matches,  and  the  tobacco  jar.  In  the  other  she  seats 
herself,  takes  up  her  knitting,  and  makes  herself  quite 
comfortable.  Then,  and  it  is  obviously  a  rehearsal  of  a 
scene  which  is  to  follow  when  the  instructor  of  mathe 
matics  has  taken  his  place  and  has  begun  to  enjoy  the 
warmth  of  the  fire: 
CORA 

The  rent?  That's  a  secret,  dear.  .  .  .  You'll  never 
know  how  much  it  is,  because  I'm  going  to  pay  it 
myself!  Yes,  every  cent  of  it.  ...  You  see,  they've 
given  me  a  raise  down  at  the  office.  .  .  .  (She  looks 
around  the  room,  mellow  in  the  gentle  light)  .  .  .  oh, 
a  thumping  big  raise!  .  .  .  What?  You  think  I'm 
a  wonderful  woman? 

[She  rises,  and  caresses  the  place  where  her  husband's 
head  would  be.  The  voice  from  the  bathroom  rises  again: 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it:  he  is  certainly  not  a  singer. 
Slowly,  dreamily,  Cora  moves  towards  the  inner  door. 
She  opens  it,  and  listens  an  instant.  Then  she  murmurs 
something.  It  sounds  like  "  Too  easy! "  She  goes  in. 
The  door  closes. 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


^ 


CATESBY 

AN  IDYLL 

Opus  26 


CHARACTERS 

HE 

SHE 

PLACE:  A  Summer  Hotel 


Copyright,  19U,  1920, 
BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


CATESBY 

It  is  the  late  afternoon  of  a  summer  day,  a  day 
which  has  been  warm  and  rather  enervating,  and  the 
veranda  of  the  hotel  is  almost  deserted.  Deserted  it  would 
be  indeed  were  it  not  for  a  young  and  extremely  attractive 
girl  reposing  in  a  rocking-chair  in  afar  corner.  A  stray 
icisp  of  golden  hair  hangs  over  her  face,  and  trembles 
with  the  slow  alternation  of  her  breath;  on  her  lap  a 
daintily  trimmed  lace  hat  occupies  a  place  of  honor; 
a  vividly  colored  parasol  rests  against  a  carelessly  flung 
arm,  a7id  a  slender  white  hand,  unmarred  by  jewels, 
grasps  an  absurdly  inadequate  fragment  of  embroidery 
known  as  a  handkerchief. 

The  spectator's  first  impulse  would  be  to  call  her  be 
witching;  his  second,  to  seek  icords  which  would  more 
nearly  do  her  justice.  For  she  is  beyond  all  description. 
The  rosy  hue  in  her  cheeks  is  the  glow  of  healthy  youth: 
no  artificial  means  could  ever  equal  that  icork  of  Nature. 
And  the  wholly  unconscious  grace  of  her  lithe-limbed 
figure!  And  that  look  of  childish  innocence  upon  her 
delicately  molded  features!  Does  the  callous  spectator 
murmur  that  all  women  look  innocent  when  they  are 
asleep?  Shame  upon  his  cynicism!  And  that  whisper 
proceeding  from  her  half -parted  lips.  When  the  goddesses 
drowsed  on  high  Olympus,  then,  perhaps,  there  icas  the 
equal  of  that  music,  that  super-snore. 


CATESBY 


A  pause.  She  sighs  in  her  sleep,  and  on  the  instant  a 
flannel-clad  young  man  enters  upon  the  scene.  Thoughts 
of  the  opposite  sex  certainly  do  not  fill  his  head,  for  he 
is  in  tennis  costume,  and  carries  a  racket,  but  the  sight 
of  the  sleeping  girl  has  an  electrical  effect  on  him.  He 
stops  sharply  and  gazes  at  her  in  frank  admiration. 
Then,  rising  at  once  to  the  occasion,  he  noiselessly  draws 
a  chair  to  her  side  and  plants  himself  in  it.  Another 
pause.  Quite  obviously  the  young  lady  has  no  intention 
of  waking  up.  It  is  equally  obvious  that  the  young  man 
is  not  acquainted  with  her,  and  that  the  problem  is  weigh 
ing  upon  him.  He  seems  to  solve  it  satisfactorily,  leans 
over  slowly,  and  by  a  series  of  cautious  jerks  releases 
her  hold  upon  the  handkerchief,  which  he  deposits  on 
the  floor.  The  hat  and  the  parasol  follow  suit.  This 
much  accomplished,  he  knits  his  brows,  and  seems  to 
devote  his  energies  to  the  remaining  problem  —  how  to 
awaken  her.  A  sharp  pain  attacks  his  ankle,  and, 
automatically,  he  raises  his  hand  to  brush  away  a  mos 
quito.  But  an  inspiration  seizes  him,  and  he  pauses 
with  set  teeth  to  wait  while  the  insect  takes  a  firm  hold 
on  him.  Then,  stealthily,  he  makes  the  capture,  quickly 
places  the  mosquito  on  the  girl's  bare  arm,  and  obliter 
ates  it  with  a  sudden  slap.  The  girl  wakes  with  a 
cry. 

SHE 

Oh! 
HE   (whipping  out  a  handkerchief  and  wiping  off  the 

remains) 

I  killed  a  mosquito  on  your  arm. 
SHE 

A  mosquito? 


CATESBY  123 


HE 

Yes.     (He  opens  out  his  handkerchief  to  exhibit  the 

corpse)     Pests,  aren't  they? 
SHE  (drowsily) 

Yes. 

[And,   to  his  consternation,   she  turns  over  calmly, 

and  prepares  to  go  to  sleep  again. 
HE  (without  a  pause) 

I  say!     (SJie  does  not  answer)     I  say! 
SHE  (half  audibly) 

Yes? 

HE 

You've  dropped  your  handkerchief. 

SHE 

Oh —     (She  makes  herself  more  comfortable)     Will 
you  put  it  on  a  chair? 

HE  (with  uncalled-for  energy) 

Yes.  Of  course.  At  once.  With  the  greatest 
pleasure!  (He  follows  her  directions  with  as  much 
noise  as  possible)  And  your  hat  —  and  your  para 
sol?  (She  does  not  reply)  What  shall  I  do  with 
your  hat  and  your  parasol?  (The  answer  is  an 
angelic  snore.  He  shakes  his  head  with  vexation, 
still  holding  her  belongings  in  his  hands.  Suddenly 
he  rushes  to  the  rail  of  the  verandah,  and  addresses 
an  imaginary  passerby  in  an  ear-splitting  voice) 
Jimmy!  O-oh!  I  say,  Jimmy!  (She  is  sitting  bolt 
upright,  terrified.  He  notes  it  with  the  corner  of  his 
eye)  Jimmy ! 
[Gesticulating  wildly  with  her  hat. 

SHE 

Stop  that! 


124  CATESBY 


HE 

Are  you  going  to  the  tennis  court,  Jimmy? 
SHE 

Give  me  my  hat! 

[She  rises  anxiously. 
HE  (leaning  far  over  the  railing) 

Bring  back  my  cigarette  case  with  you,  Jimmy! 
SHE 

Give  me  my  hat! 
HE  (turning,  and  facing  her) 

Oh,   I  beg  your  pardon.      (She  takes  the  hat,   and 

examines  it  solicitously)     Did  I  wake  you  up? 
SHE  (nodding  with  the  moue  of  a  child) 

Yes;  I  think  so. 
HE 

Oh!     I'm   so   sorry!     It   was   thoughtless   of   me. 

You'll  excuse  me,  won't  you! 
SHE  (looking  trustfully  into  his  eyes) 

Yes. 

HE 

Thank  you.    Won't  you  sit  down  again? 
SHE 

I'm  afraid  —  we  haven't  been  introduced  to  each 

other. 
HE 

Oh,  that's  all  right! 
SHE  (shaking  her  head  slowly) 

No,  it's  not  all  right. 
HE 

But  I  know  you! 
SHE  (surprised) 

You  know  me? 


CATESBY  125 


HE 

Of   course.      (He   smiles)     You're   the   girl   who's 

going  to  many  Catesby. 
SHE 

What? 
HE 

Ronald  Catesby,  of  New  York. 
SHE 

Yes?     (With  a  mischievous  smile)     How  do  you 

know? 
HE 

Oh,  he  told  me.    Catesby's  one  of  my  best  friends. 

And  he  raves  about  her! 
SHE 

And  the  girl? 
HE 

I  never  met  you  before,  but  I  recognized  you  at 

once.     Why,  he's  been  dinning  you  into  my  ears 

morning,  noon,  and  night.    Your  eyes!    Your  lips! 

Your  hair !    Your  voice !    I  know  you  as  well  as  if  — 

as  if  we  were  brother  and  sister! 
SHE 

Oh!      (She   smiles)     And   what   do   you   think   of 

Catesby's  choice? 
HE 

I  approve!     Absolutely!     (He  rambles  on  happily) 

I  knew  I  might  meet  you  here.     Catesby  said  so; 

he  said  there  was  a  good  chance  of  it;    said  I  was 

to  go  right  up  to  you  and  introduce  myself. 
SHE 

Oh! 


126  CATESBY 

HE  (taking  her  hands) 

Well,  I  congratulate  Catesby  —  with  all  my  heart ! 
SHE 

Thank  you.    And  what  have  you  to  say  to  me? 
HE 

To  you? 

SHE 

Don't  you  congratulate  me? 

HE 

Oh,  the  world  will  do  that.  Catesby  is  a  young 
man.  He  comes  of  a  fine  family.  He  is  rich  — 
disgustingly  rich.  And  he  is  a  catch. 

SHE  (nodding) 
Yes.    The  papers  are  full  of  him. 

HE 

The  papers?  They  have  reporters  following  him  all 
around  the  country.  (Smiling)  He  lies  awake  at 
night  thinking  up  new  ways  to  get  rid  of  them. 

SHE 

They  used  to  report  him  engaged  to  a  different  girl 
every  week. 

HE 

Did  you  read  it  also?     (She  nods)     And  all  the 

mammas    who    offered    their    wares    to    Catesby! 

Light  or  dark;   tall  or  short;   thin  or  plump;   with 

brains  or  without.     Pays  your  money,  and  takes 

your  choice! 
SHE 

He  escaped  them. 
HE 

Lucky  fellow! 


CATESBY  127 


SHE  (coming  back  to  her  original  point) 
But  you  haven't  congratulated  me  yet. 

HE 

Must  I?  Think!  A  fellow  meets  a  girl;  he  imagines 
she  is  the  most  wonderful  girl  in  the  world;  the 
most  beautiful,  the  cleverest,  the  most  lovable! 
And  he  insults  her  —  insults  her  outrageously !  He 
has  the  conceit  to  imagine  that  the  most  wonderful 
girl  in  all  the  world  is  just  good  enough  to  accept 
his  proposal! 

SHE  (laughing) 

Isn't  it  just  as  well?  Otherwise  the  attractive  girls 
would  never  get  married. 

HE  (grinning) 

Perhaps.  I  say,  you  and  I  are  going  to  be  awfully 
good  pals. 

SHE 

Do  you  think  so? 
HE 

I  am  sure  of  it!    Why,  Catesby  and  I  were  boys 

together!    And  Catesby's  wife  and  I  must  be  friends. 
SHE  (smiling  naively) 

Because  she's  Catesby's  wife? 
HE 

Isn't  that  enough  reason? 

SHE 

Yes.     (She  looks  into  his  eyes)     I  think  —  I  think 

it  wouldn't  be  difficult  to  make  a  friend  of  you. 
HE  (very  sincerely) 

Thank  you. 
SHE 

I  think  you  must  be  a  nice  kind  of  a  friend  to  have  — 


128  CATESBY 


(She  pauses)     But  tell  me,  if  you  have  made  a 

mistake? 
HE 

A  mistake? 
SHE 

If  I  don't  marry  Catesby? 
HE 

Oh,  but  you  will! 
SHE  (shaking  her  head) 

No. 

HE 

What  do  you  mean? 
SHE 

I  mean  —  I  mean  that  you  have  mistaken  the  girl. 
HE  (quickly) 

Oh,  but  I  haven't! 
SHE  (holding  up  her  hand) 

Please!    I  never  met  Catesby  in  my  life. 
HE 

What? 

SHE 

And  if  I  had  met  him  it  would  have  made  no  differ 
ence.    You  see,  I'm  not  Catesby's  kind.    I'm  only 
an  insignificant  Western  girl.     No  family  to  speak 
of,   not   much   money,    nothing   of   any  particular 
consequence.     (She  smiles)    You  have  no  idea  how 
tremendously  unimportant  I  am! 
HE  (very  much  embarrassed) 
Oh! 

SHE 

And     Catesby!       Catesby     the     multi-millionaire! 
Catesby   the   cotillon   leader,   the  yachtsman,   the 


CATESBY  129 


polo-player,  the  man  I  read  about  in  the  papers 
every  day!  Catesby  wouldn't  look  at  me!  I'm  so 
far  beneath  him  that  —  that  I  simply  don't  exist ! 

HE 

I  don't  think  you're  fair. 

SHE  (maliciously) 

That's  right.     Apologize. 

HE  (shaking  his  head  resolutely) 

No.     To  err  is  human,  to  apologize  asinine. 

SHE  (smiling) 

Well,  tell  me  about  the  girl.  You  see,  I'm  inquisi 
tive  enough  to  ask. 

HE    . 
What  do  you  want  to  know? 

SHE 

After  you  took  me  for  her?  Everything!  Is  she 
pretty? 

HE 

Yes.    Very  pretty. 

SHB 

And  clever? 
HE 
Well,  Catesby  thinks  so. 

SHE 

And  you? 
HE 

I  don't  like  to  differ  with  Catesby. 
SHE 

Tactful  friend!    Is  she  young? 
HE 

Twenty  —  or  thereabouts. 
SHE 

And  blueblooded? 


130  CATESBY 


HE 

Blueblooded  enough  for  Catesby. 

SHE 

Lucky  girl.  (She  pauses)  Do  you  think  Catesby 
really  loves  her? 

HE 

Yes;  I  think  so. 

SHE  (smiling) 
I  thought  millionaires  always  "contracted  alliances." 

HE 

Oh,  no.     Catesby  is  very  human. 

SHE 

In  spite  of  his  money? 

HE 

In  spite  of  his  money.  (His  voice  becomes  lower) 
You  know,  the  moment  that  Catesby  met  her  he 
knew  that  he  had  found  his  wife.  It  wasn't  only 
that  he  loved  her  at  once  —  loved  her  as  he  never 
thought  he  would  love  anything  on  this  earth.  It 
wasn't  only  that  she  was  beautiful,  and  pure,  and 
everything  that  a  woman  should  be.  It  was  the 
ideal  of  his  dreams  come  to  life!  It  was  the  girl 
who  never  could  exist,  and  did  exist! 

SHE 
So  Catesby  had  ideals?     (So/%)     He  had  ideals? 

HE 

Ideals  which  he  always  hoped  to  realize! 

SHE 
And  did  he? 

HE  (does  not  reply;   there  is  a  pause) 

Catesby  used  to  tell  me  about  the  old  Chinese 
legend  —  the  invisible  silken  thread  that  connects 


CATESBY  131 


every  boy  that  is  born  with  the  girl  who  is  one  day 
to  become  his  wife;  the  invisible  bond  that  stretches 
in  a  great  rainbow  from  one  soul  to  another!  And 
Catesby  used  to  say  that  at  the  end  of  his  rainbow 
he  would  find  not  a  pot  of  gold,  but  a  heart  of  gold  — 
the  girl,  who  ever  since  the  world  began,  had  been 
marked  out  to  be  his  wife! 

SHE  (after  a  long  pause) 
How  foolish!    And  howr  beautiful! 

HE 

Do  you  wonder  that  he  was  happy?  Do  you  wonder 
that  every  fibre  in  his  being  cried  out  with  joy 
when  he  met  her? 

SHE 

No.  (She  smiles,  a  little  sadly)  How  I  wish  I  could 
have  known  him  —  known  the  man  who  could  feel 
like  that!  (She  sighs)  Oh,  but  such  things  don't 
happen!  Your  rainbow  thread?  There  never  was 
any!  There  never  is  any!  (A  long  pause.  Night 
has  begun  to  fall,  and  scattered  lights  twinkle  in  the 
distance)  When  you  go  back  (she  rises  and  takes 
his  hands),  when  you  go  back,  tell  Catesby,  tell 
him  that  you  met  a  girl  who  felt  with  him.  Tell 
him  that  you  met  a  girl  who  all  her  life  had  dreamed 
of  an  ideal,  a  man  who  could  dream  —  like  Catesby. 
Tell  him  —  tell  him  you  met  a  girl  who  might  have 
loved  him !  And  say  — 

[But  he  interrupts  her,  and  draws  her,  all  unresisting, 
into  a  triumphant  embrace. 

HE 

Don't  be  foolish,  child!  (And  his  voice  is  only  a 
throaty  whisper)  Don't  be  foolish!  I'm  Catesby! 

IN   THE   GROWING   DARKNESS,   THE   CURTAIN   FALLS 


HIS  RETURN 

A  COMEDY 

Opus  53 


CHARACTERS 

HELEN  HARTLEY 
JOHN  HARTLEY 
SYLVIA  BEST 
A  MAID 

THE  TIME:  The  Summer  of  1918. 


Copyright,  1922, 
BY  PEBCIVAL  WILDE. 


HIS   RETURN 

The  nicely  furnished  boudoir  in  Mrs.  Hartley's  home 
in  a  small  Northwestern  town.  There  are  three  doors. 
The  central  one  leads  into  the  hall;  that  on  the  right 
into  the  interior  of  the  house;  that  on  the  left  into  a 
bathroom.  There  is  the  furniture  one  would  expect;  a 
dressing  table,  a  chaise-longue,  two  or  three  dainty  chairs, 
and  a  pier-glass  at  one  side.  On  the  dressing  table  are 
two  large  framed  photographs. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  the  stage  is  empty.  There 
is  a  pause.  Then  there  enters  John  Hartley,  a  man  of 
thirty-Jive  or  forty,  dressed  in  a  Canadian  uniform. 

He  is  very  much  excited.  He  is  returning  home  after 
an  absence  of  years.  He  enters  as  if  he  expects  to  find 
his  wife  here.  She  is  not.  He  is  disappointed,  but  he 
takes  visible  pleasure  in  going  about  the  room,  identifying 
the  many  familiar  objects  which  it  contains.  He  stops 
abruptly  at  the  sight  of  the  two  portraits  on  his  wife's 
dressing  table,  one  of  him,  one  of  her.  He  takes  up  her 
picture,  deeply  affected,  and  kisses  it. 

There  is  a  pause.  Then  he  hears  steps  coming,  and 
straightens  up  expectantly. 

The  maid  enters. 
THE  MAID  (looking  at  him  in  surprise) 

How —  how  did  you  get  in  here? 
HARTLEY  (smiling) 

Why,  I  walked  upstairs. 


136  HIS  RETURN 


THE   MAID 

Yes,  yes,  I  know  that.  But  how  did  you  get  into 
the  house?  I  didn't  hear  the  bell  ring. 

HARTLEY 

I  opened  the  door.     (As  she  looks  her  surprise,  he 
shows  a  latchkey)     With  this. 
THE  MAID  (with  sudden  comprehension} 

O— oh!  Then  you  —  you're  the  master!  (Hartley 
nods  and  smiles)  You're  Captain  Hartley!  I'm  so 
glad  to  see  you!  Why,  I've  heard  all  about  you, 
and  your  medals,  and  being  wounded,  for  three 
years!  (Timidly)  Might  I  —  might  I  shake  hands 
with  you,  Captain? 

HARTLEY 

Why,  of  course! 
\_He  shakes  hands. 
THE  MAID  (rubbing  her  hand  delightedly) 

I  never  thought  that  I'd  shake  hands  with  a  real 
hero! 

HARTLEY 

Hero?  Bosh!  They're  all  heroes  over  there!  I'm 
just  unlucky  —  wounded  —  sent  home. 

THE   MAID 

Nevertheless,  the  town's  mighty  proud  of  you! 

HARTLEY 

Shucks!  I  don't  care  about  the  town!  Tell  me: 
how  is  she? 

THE  MAID 

The  missis? 

[He  nods  eagerly.     The  maid  starts  abruptly^  aghast. 
HARTLEY  (frightened) 

What  is  it?    What's  wrong? 


HIS  RETURN  137 


THE  MAID 

She  doesn't  expect  you  until  five  o'clock! 
HARTLEY  (laughing) 

I  took  an  earlier  train. 
THE  MAID  (dismayed) 

But  why  did  you  do  that? 

HARTLEY 

Why?    Is  it  so  difficult  to  understand? 

THE  MAID 

It  was  wrong. 

HARTLEY 

Wrong? 

THE   MAID 

Don't  you  see?    She  wants  to  be  dressed:   to  look 
her  nicest,  to  receive  you. 
HARTLEY  (laughing) 
Well,  what  of  that? 

THE   MAID 

She'd  be  simply  heartbroken  if  she  knew  that  you'd 
gotten  here,  and  she  wasn't  ready !    You  see,  it's  — 
it's  something  very  special. 
HARTLEY  (beginning  to  understand) 
Oh,  something  very  special? 
[The  door  downstairs  is  heard  to  close. 

THE   MAID 

Here  she  is  now! 
HARTLEY  (delighted) 
Oh! 

THE   MAID 

You  won't  spoil  her  pleasure? 
HARTLEY  (sincerely) 
God  forbid!    (he  goes  to  the  right-hand  door)     Re- 


138  HIS  RETURN 


member  —  half  an  hour  upstairs  will  seem  almost  as 
long  as  three  years  over  there! 
[He  goes  out.    The  maid  waits  until  she  hears  approach 
ing  footsteps.     Then  she,  too,  goes.     There  is  a  pause. 
Then  Helen  Hartley  enters  in  a  street  dress. 

HELEN  (turning,  and  calling  to  a  person  following  her) 
Come  right  in,  Sylvia. 

SYLVIA  (entering.    She  is  a  pretty,  brainless,  young  girl) 
Mrs.  Hartley  — 

HELEN  (correcting  her) 
Helen. 

SYLVIA 

Helen  dear,  will  you  do  me  a  favor? 
HELEN  (smiling) 

Who's  the  man? 
SYLVIA 

Your  husband. 

HELEN 

What? 

[She  takes  off  her  hat. 
SYLVIA 

May  I  stay  here  —  till  he  comes? 
HELEN  (shaking  her  head  gently) 

No,  dear. 
SYLVIA 

I'm  simply  dying  to  meet  him! 
HELEN 

Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  a  secret?     So  am  I! 

(As  Sylvia  pouts)    I  haven't  seen  him  in  three  years. 
SYLVIA 

I've  never  seen  him  at  all! 


HIS  RETURN  139 


HELEN  (simply) 

I'm  his  wife.  .  .  Child,  child,  when  you've  been  mar 
ried  as  long  as  I  have,  you  will  understand  —  if  — 
if  you  and  the  lucky  man  who  gets  you  love  each 
other  as  dearly  as  —  well,  as  we  do ! 
[S/?€  ta kes  up  Hartley's  photograph. 

SYLVIA 

Oh,  but  we  will! 

HELEN  (smiling,  and  petting  her) 

That's  right !  Be  happy !  Be  as  happy  as  I  have  been! 
(She  pauses)  There  are  moments  in  life  that  are 
like  no  other  moments.  There  was  one  in  my  life 
when  he  asked  me  a  question,  and  I  said  yes;  and 
there  was  another  when  we  knelt  together  in  church; 
and  there  was  another,  but  that  wasn't  so  pleasant, 
when  I  waved  good-by  to  him  from  the  station  plat 
form,  when  he  joined  the  Canadians  three  years 
ago  —  (she  pauses)  and  there  will  be  a  wonderful 
moment,  a  moment  for  which  I  have  been  living 
ever  since,  when  he  comes  home  to  me.  (Kindly) 
Don't  you  see?  There  mustn't  be  any  third  person 
here?  Just  he  —  and  I! 

SYLVIA  (contritely) 

I'm  so  sorry,  Mrs.  Hartley. 

HELEN  (with  an  abrupt  change  of  manner) 

Now,  now!  Don't  call  me  Mrs.  Hartley!  It  makes 
me  feel  so  old!  Ugh! 

SYLVIA  (smiling,  and  kissing  her) 
Helen,  dear! 

HELEN 

And  don't  be  so  respectful!  I  don't  like  it  when 
young^girls  are  so  respectful  to  me;  treat  me  just 


140  HIS  RETURN 


as  they  would  their  mothers!     I'm  not  old!     I'm 
only  thir  —  I'm  only  —  (She  breaks  off)     Well,  it's 
nobody's  business  how  old  I  am,  is  it? 
SYLVIA 

Of  course  not ! 

HELEN    (slowly) 

Not  that  there's  any  secret  about  it.  ...  (She 
smiles  at  Sylvia)  But  what  I  wouldn't  give  to  be 
your  age  again!  (Tapping  Sylvia's  cheek)  It  didn't 
take  paint  to  put  that  color  on,  did  it? 

SYLVIA  (embarrassed) 
Oh,  Mrs.  Hartley! 

HELEN  (resignedly) 

There  you  go  again:  Mrs.  Hartley!  (Sighing)  I 
suppose  it's  the  right  thing,  anyhow,  isn't  it? 

SYLVIA 

You  old  darling!  (Helen  winces  at  the  word.  Sylvia 
picks  up  her  wraps)  You  want  me  to  go  now,  don't 
you? 

HELEN  (looking  at  her  shrewdly) 
Would  you  like  to  help  me  dress? 

SYLVIA 
Would  I? 

HELEN 

Then  I'll  read  you  his  last  letter! 
[_She  rings  for  the  maid. 

SYLVIA 

From  over  there? 
HELEN  (shaking  her  head) 

No;  written  the  moment  he  landed  here  —  to  let  me 
know  when  he'd  arrive. 
[The  maid  enters. 


HIS  RETURN  141 


THE   MAID 

Yes,  ma'am? 

HELEN 

Bring  me  the  dress.     You  know  which  one? 
THE  MAID  (smiling) 

I  know,  Mrs.  Hartley. 

[She  goes  to  the  clothes  closet. 
HELEN  (turning  to  Sylvia) 

The  same  dress  I  wore  the  day  I  said  good-by  to 

him  at  the  train! 
SYLVIA 

What  a  charming  idea! 
HELEN  (producing  a  letter) 

His  letter  suggested  it.     Listen:    "My  own  dearest 

girl  —        (She  reads  to  herself:    looks  up)     No,   I 

can't  read  the  beginning.     (She  reads  a  little  further 

silently)    No,  I  really  can't.     (She  goes  ahead)    Ah! 

Here's  something! 
SYLVIA  (with  eager  anticipation) 

Yes? 
HELEN  (reading) 

"The  weather  on  the  trip  home  was  lovely." 

SYLVL4. 

How  intensely  exciting! 

HELEN 

It's  not  very  satisfactory,  is  it?  (By  this  time  the 
maid  has  changed  her  shoes.  She  indicates  them)  The 
same  shoes  I  wore  that  day !  (She  reverts  to  the  letter) 
Ah! 

SYLVIA 

Yes? 


142  HIS  RETURN 


HELEN  (After  an  instant's  hesitation) 

I'm  going  to  read  this  to  you.  Some  day  you  may 
get  letters  like  it.  (She  reads)  "Do  you  know  what 
image  has  been  in  my  mind  every  minute  for  the  last 
three  years?  Do  you  know  what  picture  was  before 
my  eyes  as  I  lay  in  that  shell  hole,  wounded,  ex 
pecting  every  instant  to  be  my  last?  It  was  your 
face,  dear,  as  the  train  pulled  out  of  the  station,  your 
face,  dear,  and  your  smile,  your  smile  put  on  to  en 
courage  me,  for  God  knows  there  was  no  smile  in 
my  heart  —  that  day.  Every  detail  is  as  distinct  as 
if  you  stood  before  me  as  I  write  —  the  little  dress 
you  wore :  it  was  always  my  favorite  —  (she  indi 
cates  the  dress  in  the  maid's  hands)  —  the  hat :  one 
of  the  kind  that  came  down  over  the  side  of  your 
face  —  (she  indicates  it)  Do  you  remember  how  it  was 
in  the  way  when — " 

She  drops  her  voice  so  that  it  is  inaudible,  and  con 
tinues. 

SYLVIA 

What  was  that  last,  Helen? 

HELEN 

"Every  detail;    yes,   every   detail  —  " 
SYLVIA 

But  the  hat?    What  did  he  say  about  the  hat? 

HELEN 

(Rises.    By  this  time  the  maid  has  unhooked  her  dress) 
This  is  the  hat.    Don't  you  like  it? 
[She  thrusts  it  into  Sylvia's  hands,  and  changes  quickly 
into  the  second  dress. 

SYLVIA  (putting  down  the  hat,  and  looking  at  the  dress) 
Do  you  know,  I  used  to  have  a  dress  something  like 


HIS  RETURN  143 


that?    (She  watches  the  maid  attempt  to  hook  it  up) 

That's  not  the  way  to  do  it!    Mayn't  I  hook  you 

up,  Helen? 
HELEN 

If  you'd  like  to. 

\_She  nods  to  the  maid,  who  goes  out. 
SYLVIA  (taking  the  maid's  place) 

I'll  feel  that  I've  had  some  share  in  preparing  for  him! 
HELEN  (dreamily) 

His  favorite  dress ! 
SYLVIA  (working  very  hard:   panting) 

Mrs.  Hartley! 

HELEN 

Well? 

SYLVIA 

I  believe  —  I  believe  —  you've  grown  stout! 

HELEN 

What? 

SYLVIA 

I  can't  close  more  than  half  of  the  hooks ! 
HELEN  (horrified) 

I  never  thought  of  trying  it  on  until  to-day!     (She 

hurries  to  the  pier  glass,  followed  by  Sylvia.    She  looks: 

then,  in  horror)    Oh-h! 
SYLVIA  (laughing) 

What? 

HELEN 

Oh!   Oh! 
SYLVIA 

Helen!    Just  because  you've  gotten  stout? 

HELEN 

It's  not  that!    Oh,  no!    It's  not  that!    It's  because 


144  HIS  RETURN 


I've  gotten  old!  Come  here:  stand  beside  me:  look 
at  yourself  next  to  me !  Do  you  see?  .  .  .  It's  come! 
It's  come!  I  always  knew  it  would  come  —  not 
gradually,  so  that  I  wouldn't  know  it,  but  all  of  a 
sudden,  without  a  moment's  notice  —  all  at  once! 
It  was  only  three  years  ago  that  I  said  good-by  to 
him,  and  I  wore  this  dress.  I  was  a  young  wife. 
To-day  he's  coming  home  to  find  me  an  old  woman! 
SYLVIA  (frightened) 

Why,  Mrs.  Hartley,  that  dress  looks  very  becoming! 

HELEN 

It  would  —  on  you.    Don't  lie  to  me,  please !    I've 
lied  to  myself  enough!    I've  painted  and  powdered 
and  dined  and  danced  with  the  youngest  of  them! 
But  it  had  to  come  to  an  end.    I  knew  it  had  to  come 
to  an  end.    But  I  hoped  —  how  I  hoped  that  it  would 
not  come  to  an  end  before  to-day! 
SYLVIA 
Helen,  dear  —  why  —  why  — 

HELEN 

You  can't  say  anything.  There's  nothing  anybody 
can  say.  /  used  to  say  to  myself  that  he'd  find  me 
as  young,  as  beautiful,  as  the  day  I  waved  good-by 
to  him  at  the  station.  Now  —  now  I  know  that  will 
never  be.  (With  horror)  He'll  come  home  to  find 
an  old  woman  sitting  opposite  him  at  his  own  table! 
£  She  weeps. 

SYLVIA  (nervously,  after  a  pause) 
Helen  dear,  you  can't  be  over  — 

HELEN  (interrupting) 

I  can't  be  —  but  I  am.  They  always  are  "over!" 
(She  pauses)  You  know,  it's  not  that  I  care  what 


HIS  RETURN  145 


other  people  think:  I  don't  give  that  for  their  opin 
ions!  He's  the  only  one  that  counts.  He  used  to 
love  my  youth;  my  freshness  —  and  now,  if  he  wants 
youth  and  freshness,  he'll  have  to  go  somewheres 
else  to  get  it!  ...  (She  shakes  her  head  bitterly) 
Jealous?  I  have  always  hated  jealous  women!  But 
to-day  I  understand :  to-day  I  too  am  jealous,  jealous ! 

SYLVIA 

Mrs.  Hartley! 

HELEN  (coming  to  a  hysterical  calm) 

I  don't  mean  you,  child.  Of  course  not!  You'll 
pardon  me,  won't  you?  Just  the  excitement  —  the 
excitement  of  knowing  that  he  was  coming  home. 
(She  has  led  the  way  to  the  door)  You'll  go  now,  Sylvia? 

SYLVIA 

I'm  so  sorry,  Mrs.  Hartley! 
[She  goes. 

HELEN  (closing  the  door  after  her) 
So  sorry!    So  sorry! 

[She  laughs  bitterly;  icalks  to  the  dressing  table;  takes 
up  the  letter:  reads  it  over  again  with  obviously  tragic 
feelings. 

THE  MAID  (entering) 
Ma'am ! 

HELEN  (ivearily) 
Yes? 

THE  MAID 

He's  come! 
HELEN  (taken  aback) 
What? 

THE  MAID 

He's  just  come  in! 


146  HIS  RETURN 


HELEN  (an  instant  of  indecision.    Her  first  impulse  is 

to  rush  to  the  door) 

Tell  him  to  wait ! 
THE  MAID  (astonished) 

To  wait? 

HELEN 

You  heard  what  I  said?  And  come  back  when  you've 
told  him. 

\_The  maid  goes.  Even  before  she  has  crossed  the 
threshold,  Helen  has  torn  off  tine  dress,  and  flung  a 
wrap  around  her  shoulders.  She  rushes  to  the  table, 
sits  down,  and  begins  rubbing  off  her  paint  madly. 
The  maid  re'enters. 

HELEN 

Bring  me  my  black  and  gold! 
THE  MAID  (astonished) 
Your  black  and  gold? 

HELEN 

And  quickly! 

THE   MAID 

Yes,  ma'am. 

[She  hurries  to  the  closet,  and  takes  out  a  third  gown. 
HELEN 

Put  me  into  it. 

THE   MAID 

But  I  thought  —  but  I  thought  — 
HELEN  (hysterically) 

That  I  was  going  to  wear  the  other  one?     How 
absurd!    What  on  earth  made  you  think  that? 
(The  maid  stares  at  her,  simply  dumfounded)    Never 
mind.    I'm  so  excited  that  I  don't  quite  know  what 
I'm  saying.  You  can  wear  the  other  dress,  can't  you? 


HIS  RETURN  147 


THE  MAID  (incredulously) 
The  blue  and  white? 

HELEN 

Yes. 

THE   MAID 

Yes'm.   I  can  wear  it. 

HELEN 

Then  take  it.    It's  yours. 

THE  MAID 

Oh,  thank  you,  ma'am. 

HELEN 

Now  —  I'm  ready.    Show  him  in. 
\_The  maid  goes  of  with  the  dress.    Immediately  she  is 
out  of  sight,     Helen  rushes  of  through  the  left-hand 
door.     There  is  a  pause.     Then  Hartley  enters  softly. 

HARTLEY 

Helen!     Helen  dear!     (He  advances  into  the  room) 
Where  are  you?    Where  are  you,  dear? 
[Helen    re-enters.      She    has  finished    removing    every 
vestige  of  paint  and  powder  from  her  face.     She  has 
suddenly  become  herself  —  a  beautiful  woman. 

HARTLEY 

Helen!  (They  rush  into  an  embrace.    Presently)    Isn't 
it  wonderful  to  be  home  again? 
HELEN 
John! 

HARTLEY 

To  walk  the  streets  of  my  own  town !  To  stand  under 
the  roof  of  my  own  house! 

HELEN 

Is  that  all,  John? 


148  HIS  RETURN 


HARTLEY  (shaking  his  head  with  a  smile) 
No;  that  isn't  all. 

HELEN 

Say  it,  John!  Say  it! 

HARTLEY 

To  feel  your  arms  around  my  neck!  To  feel  your  lips 
pressing  mine!   (He  kisses  her)    Do  you  realize  what 
I've  been  through  for  three  years? 
HELEN 
We'll  try  to  forget  that. 

HARTLEY 

We'll  try !    (He  holds  her  off  at  arm's  length)   And  now ! 

HELEN 

Now! 

HARTLEY 

Let  me  look  at  you ! 

HELEN  (in  a  strained  voice,  after  a  little  pause) 
Well? 

HARTLEY  (surprised  at  her  tone) 
What  is  it? 

HELEN  (excitedly) 

Tell  me  what  I  know  already!  Let  me  say  it  for  you! 
That  I've  grown  old,  old,  old!  (He  tries  to  interrupt. 
She  continues  without  a  break)  You  are  not  the  only 
one  who  suffered  these  three  years!  I  suffered! 
God  knows  how  I  suffered !  For  any  reason  —  for  no 
reason  —  when  your  letters  didn't  come  —  when  the 
newspapers  told  of  heavy  fighting  —  when  I  stayed 
awake  all  night,  worrying  my  soul  out,  I  suffered, 
I  suffered  too! 

HARTLEY 

My  dear! 


HIS  RETURN  149 


HELEN 

Let  me  finish!  These  wrinkles  —  do  you  see  them? 
These  lines  —  they  were  not  here  three  years  ago — 
do  you  know  why  I  have  them?  They  are  for  you, 
you,  you!  It's  not  the  men  alone  who  go  through 
hell!  It's  the  women  they  leave  behind  them! 
HARTLEY  (taking  her  in  his  arms  violently} 

My  dear,  dear  girl !  How  I  should  love  every  wrinkle 
in  your  face  —  if  there  were  any !    Only  there  aren't ! 

HELEN 

John! 

HARTLEY 

You  old?    That  is  what  comes  of  looking  too  much 
in  your  mirror !    A  woman  is  only  as  old  as  she  looks 
in  the  eyes  of  her  lover! 
HELEN  (almost  gasping) 
And  I? 

HARTLEY 

I  have  never  seen  you  look  so  young,  so  beautiful, 
so  altogether  charming! 
HELEN  (presently) 
John! 

HARTLEY 

Yes? 

HELEN 

Look  what  I've  found! 

HARTLEY 

What? 
HELEN  (with  childish  delight) 

A  gray  hair  —  hi  your  moustache ! 
HARTLEY  (laughing) 

I've  grown  old,  haven't  I?     (As  they  separate  an 


150  HIS  RETURN 


instant,    a   surprised    look    comes    into    his    eyes) 
Helen! 

HELEN 

What  is  it? 

HARTLEY  (clapping  his  hands  together) 
By  Jove!    What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  see  it! 

HELEN 

See  what? 

HARTLEY 

And  after  the  maid  warned  me  that  you  had  a  sur 
prise  in  store  for  me! 

HELEN  (utterly  bewildered) 
What  is  it,  John? 

HARTLEY  (triumphantly) 

You're  wearing  the  same  dress  you  wore  the  day  you 

saw  me  off  at  the  station! 

[She  falls  into  his  arms,  laughing  happily. 

THE    CURTAIN     FALLS 


EMBRYO 

A  FANTASTIC  COMEDY 

Opus  29 


CHARACTERS 

THE  AUTHOR 

THE  BRUNETTE 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

THE  BLONDE 

THE  DEAD  MAN 

The  general  public  is  fairly  familiar  with  acts  known  as 
"  Black  Art."  In  that  form  of  entertainment,  the  footlights, 
instead  of  being  directed  upon  the  magician  and  his  assist 
ants,  are  faced  about,  in  order  to  blind  the  audience,  while 
the  most  mysterious  appearances  and  disappearances,  be 
headings,  and  what  not,  take  place  upon  the  stage  against  a 
background  of  dead  black. 

Despite  the  antiquity  of  the  device,  its  use  has  been  con 
fined  entirely  to  performances  intended  solely  to  mystify,  and 
quite  devoid  of  dialogue,  action,  or  any  of  the  essentials  of  a 
play.  "Embryo,"  so  far  as  I  know,  represents  the  first 
attempt  to  make  use  of  this  highly  effective  and  unusual 
setting  as  the  background  for  drama. 


BY  PERCIVAL  WILDE. 


EMBRYO 

The  Author,  smoking  a  pipe,  is  seated  at  his  type- 
irriter.  He  reads  over  what  he  has  written;  pauses;  puffs 
thoughtfully,  and  writes  another  line. 

He  is  tired,  for  he  writes  only  a  second  or  two,  and 
stops  abruptly.  He  knocks  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe 
wearily,  and  leans  back  to  ponder.  He  yawns.  He 
sitings  his  feet  up  onto  the  typewriter  table,  and  stretches. 

Perhaps  he  is  thinking:  thinking  hard.  But  his  hand 
swings  idly  at  his  side,  and  his  head  begins  to  nod.  His 
eyes  close.  He  sleeps. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  scene  becomes  quite  dark.  .  .  . 

It  is  an  extraordinary  scene  which  is  revealed  when 

the  lights  finally  go  on  again.  Author  and  typewriter 
have  vanished.  The  stage  opening  is  outlined  by  a  rec 
tangle  of  lights,  shining  unshielded  into  the  faces  of  the 
audience,  and  the  scene  within  is  simply  a  mass  of 
smooth,  impenetrable  blackness.  If  there  are  limiting 
icalls,  they  are  quite  invisible.  Even  floor  and  ceiling 
are  of  the  same  velvety  indistinguishable  black. 

From  nowhere,  apparently,  a  tall,  slender  brunette 
enters.  Her  age  is  anything  from  twenty  to  thirty,  and  she 
is  the  type  which  conceals  it,  whichever  age  it  may  be. 
She  is  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  her  physical  charm 
is  undeniable,  and  she  approaches  rubbing  her  eyes, 


154  EMBRYO 


eyes  which  are  black,  and  vivacious,  and  very  captivating, 
as  if  she  had  just  awakened. 

Suddenly,  abruptly,  a  young  man  appears  near  her. 
No  door  opens  to  admit  him:  nothing  exists  to  show  whence 
he  came.  He  simply  appears,  appears  as  instantaneously 
and  decisively  as  a  magic-lantern  picture  is  thrown  on  a 
screen.  He  sees  her  at  once,  and  whips  off  his  hat  to  bow 
to  her  deeply. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

How  do  you  do? 

THE   BRUNETTE    (bowing) 

Very  well,  thank  you.  (She  looks  at  him  curiously) 
Haven't  I  seen  you  before? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN    (proudly) 

Of  course  you  have! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

I  thought  so. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

I'm  the  author's  favorite  character.  Faultlessly 
dressed,  you  notice,  even  though  I  wear  tennis  clothes 
when  necessary;  smart,  cynical,  occasionally  sen 
timental.  Sometimes  I'm  English.  I  am  usually 
aristocratic. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

I  think  I  remember  you! 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (indulgently) 
Yes? 

THE  BRUNETTE 

You  were  Lord  Brookfield  in  "The  Noble  Lord." 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

So  I  was. 


EMBRYO  155 


THE   BRUNETTE 

And  you  don't  know  me?    I  was  the  girl  you  rescued! 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

You  the  girl? 

THE   BRUNETTE    (smiling) 

Yes. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (shaking  her  hand  enthusiastically) 
By  Jove,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  You're  looking  jolly 
well. 

THE    BRUNETTE    (coyly) 

Do  you  think  so,  Lord  Brookfield? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

And  you're  as  pretty  as  you  ever  were!     Prettier! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Isn't  it  a  rather  late  date  to  pay  me  compliments? 
After  you  pulled  me  out  of  the  water  to  make  me 
jump  in  again  so  that  your  valet  could  rescue  me! 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (chuckling) 
Wasn't  it  a  lark? 

THE   BRUNETTE 

A  lark? 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (sensing  danger) 

At  any  rate,  it's  over  now.    You  don't  bear  me  any 

hard  feelings? 
THE  BRUNETTE  (undecidedly) 

I  don't  know  .  .  . 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

It  was  the  author's  fault  —  not  mine.    If  it  had  been 
for  me  to  decide  .  .  . 
THE  BRUNETTE  (encouragingly) 
Yes,  Lord  Brookfield? 


156  EMBRYO 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  (thinking  better  of  it) 

Nothing.    Do  you  know,  I've  often  wondered  what 
happened  when  Peters  plunged  in  after  you. 

THE   BRUNETTE    (pouting) 

I  won't  tell  you.    It  was  mean  of  you  to  make  me 

jump  in. 

[A  stool  appears  suddenly.     She  seats  herself  on  it. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

It  was  only  imaginary  water. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

That's  so.    (Absentmindedly  passing  her  hand  through 
her  knee)     And  I'm  only  an  imaginary  girl. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

So  you  didn't  really  get  wet. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

No.    But  it  was  the  mental  pain  that  mattered  most. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

The  mental  pain? 

[He  leans   on   the    back  of  a   chair   which   appears 

conveniently. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

When  Peters  came  tearing  through  the  shrubbery 
shouting,  "HT'm  coming!    HT'm  coming!"    I  never 
could  stand  a  Cockney  accent.    I  believe  I  fainted. 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (alarmed) 

Fainted?    Fainted  in  the  water? 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Yes,  Lord  Brookfield.     I  would  have  drowned  if  I 
had  been  a  real  girl.    It  was  very  dangerous. 
\_She  rises.     Her  stool  vanishes. 


EMBRYO  157 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  (penitently) 

Well,  well!  (Trying  to  change  the  subject)  Do  you 
remember  "Catesby?  " 

THE  BRUNETTE 

No. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

"Catesby!"    You  don't  remember  "Catesby"? 
[_As  he  takes  a  step   away  from  his  chair,   it,  too, 

rajiishes. 

THE    BRUNETTE 

I  wasn't  in  it. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

But  you  were!    I  knew  you  the  moment  I  saw  you! 

You  were  my  ideal,  the  girl  I  had  been  looking  for 

all  my  life.    You  were  the  girl  who  was  going  to  marry 

Catesby! 

[_A  blonde  young  girl,  wearing  a  large,  floppy  hat,  and 

carrying   a   daintily   embroidered   parasol,    appearing 

abruptly  out  of  the  nowhere. 

THE   BLONDE 

No,  I  was. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Foti? 

THE  BLONDE  (condescendingly) 

I'm  the  author's  favorite  heroine.  (Turning  to  the 
young  man)  Don't  you  know  me  yet?  Listen:  I'll 
snore  for  you.  You  first  saw  me  when  I  was  asleep. 
[She  snores. 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

Why,  of  course!  (Taking  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissing 
her  eagerly)  Dearest! 


158  EMBRYO 


THE   BLONDE    (over  hlS  shoulder) 

You  see?  I'm  sweet,  and  simple,  and  innocent,  and 
perfectly  adorable! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

You  don't  think  much  of  yourself,  do  you? 
THE  BLONDE  (with  childish  naivete) 

Wouldn't  anybody  like  a  girl  like  me?  I'm  pretty, 
and  affectionate,  and  just  too  dear  for  words !  They 
all  of  them  fall  in  love  with  me.  Even  the  author! 
He  told  me  it  gives  him  a  twinge  every  time  one  of 
his  characters  marries  me :  he'd  like  to  do  it  himself. 

THE    BRUNETTE 

Hang  the  author! 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (horror-stricken) 
What  did  you  say? 

THE  BLONDE  (very  seriously) 

Never  say  it  again!  If  they  hanged  the  author, 
where  would  we  be? 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

We  exist  only  in  his  mind. 

THE  BRUNETTE  (resolutely) 

Well,  he  ought  to  be  hanged,  anyway.  He  makes 
life  a  perfect  agony  to  me.  He  doesn't  care  for  bru 
nettes,  and  he  makes  me  pay  for  it.  But  how  he  can 
like  that  spineless  jellyfish  over  there !  It's  a  mystery 
to  me!  A  mystery! 

THE  BLONDE  (almost  weeping) 

Now,  isn't  that  just  like  a  villainess?    Boo! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Don't  say  "Boo"  to  me! 


EMBRYO  159 


THE    BLONDE 

I  will  if  I  like.    I'll  say  worse  things  than  that!    (Her 
eyes  light  up)     Oh,  Peters  told  me  all  about  what 
happened  to  you  in  "The  Noble  Lord." 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (interrupting  curiously) 
Where  did  you  meet  Peters? 

THE   BLONDE    (simply} 

He  was  Nora  the  cook  in  "Playing  With  Fire." 
(She  turns  to  the  brunette)  Peters  told  me  all  about 
you.  You  made  believe  you  were  drowning,  and 
Lord  Brookfield  knew  that  you  made  believe,  so  he 
told  you  he  was  only  the  valet,  and  got  you  to  jump 
back  into  the  water  for  Peters  to  rescue.  And  it 
served  her  good  and  right,  didn't  it,  Mr.  Catesby? 
[The  brunette  turns  angrily  on  her  heel  and  vanishes. 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

Don't  mind  her,  dearest. 
THE  BLONDE  (tossing  her  head) 

She's  nothing  but  an  old  villainess! 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

It's  an  important  part. 

THE   BLONDE 

Not  when  I'm  in  the  play!  (She  looks  at  him  curi 
ously)  You  weren't  in  "Playing  With  Fire?"  I 
haven't  seen  you  since  "Catesby,"  have  I? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

No.  (He  smiles)  Do  you  remember  how  I  forced 
you  to  talk  to  me? 

THE   BLONDE 

Um  humh ! 

[She  sits  on  a  stool  which  appears  for  the  purpose. 


160  EMBRYO 


THE   YOUNG   MAN 

That  mosquito  on  your  arm. 
[Sitting  on  another  stool  next  to  her. 

THE   BLONDE 

You  woke  me  up  by  killing  it. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Did  you  know  it  was  a  dead  mosquito? 

THE  BLONDE 

What? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

I  caught  it  on  my  ankle,  and  I  put  it  on  your  arm  to 
get  a  chance  to  wake  you  up. 

THE   BLONDE    (smiling) 

I  oughtn't  to  know,  but  —  if  I  tell  you  something, 
you  won't  repeat  it? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

No. 
THE  BLONDE  (putting  her  mouth  to  his  ear) 

I  wasn't  really  asleep! 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (surprised) 

What? 
THE  BLONDE  (laughing) 

I'm  not  so  innocent  as  I  look! 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

You  couldn't  be. 

THE   BLONDE 

No.    I  knew  that  you  were  Catesby  all  the  time.    I 
saw  you  register,  and  I  waited  for  you! 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

I'll  be  jiggered! 

[He  rises.    His  stool  vanishes. 


EMBRYO  161 


THE   BLONDE 

It's  all  right  telling  you  as  long  as  the  audience 
doesn't  know  it. 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (dazed) 

What  do  you  think  of  that?  I  would  have  sworn  you 
didn't  know! 

THE   BLONDE 

Of  course  you  would.  I'm  such  a  simple  little  thing. 
(He  looks  at  her  suspiciously)  I  really  am.  Every 
body  loves  me. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

And  I  wasted  a  proposal  on  you. 

THE   BLONDE 

It  wasn't  wasted.    I  accepted  it. 
[As  she  rises,  her  stool  disappears. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

What  difference  did  it  make  whether  you  accepted  it 
or  didn't  accept  it?  We  didn't  get  married,  did  we? 
And  we're  not  going  to  get  married? 

THE   BLONDE 

Of  course  not.  The  audience  doesn't  care  whether 
we  get  married  or  not:  they  just  want  to  see  me  ac 
cept  you.  That's  all.  And  I'm  sure  you've  proposed 
to  a  dozen  girls  since  then. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Certainly.    What  did  you  expect? 

THE   BLONDE 

Did  they  all  accept  you?  , 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Almost  all  of  them. 
THE  BLONDE  (sighing) 

It's  nice  to  be  the  hero,  isn't  it? 


162  EMBRYO 


THE  YOUNG  MAN 

It's  bound  to  be  nice.     I'm  the  author's  favorite 
character.    You  should  have  seen  me  in  "The  Pre 
vious  Engagement."     I  was  all  there  was  to  it! 
THE  BRUNETTE  (appearing  unexpectedly) 

What  do  you  mean?    That  you  were  the  whole  show? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

I  was  more  than  that!  I  was  the  only  character  in 
the  play !  Just  me,  and  two  telephones,  and  a  dumb 
waiter,  and  a  phonograph,  and  a  dog,  and  the  fellow 
who  lived  next  door  and  who  told  me  to  drink  ginger 
ale  with  two  limes  in  it. 

THE  BRUNETTE  (cuttingly) 

I  suppose  that  that  was  the  first  time  in  your  life 
that  you  had  as  much  of  the  spotlight  as  you  wanted ! 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (disregarding  her) 

It  was  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  got  a  drink  of 
any  kind  in  any  play  of  his,  and  I've  been  in  forty- 
five  of  them!  (With  deep  disgust)  And  the  drink 
was  ginger  ale  with  two  limes  in  it!  Whew! 

THE  BRUNETTE  (impatiently) 
Well,  what's  this  play  about? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Which  one? 

THE  BRUNETTE 

The  one  we're  in. 

THE   BLONDE 

It's  unfinished. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Unfinished?    Why,  he  hasn't  begun  to  write  it. 
THE  BRUNETTE  (wearily) 
Of  course.   That's  why  we're  here. 


EMBRYO  163 


THE   YOUNG   MAN 

I'm  a  cynical  young  man  again,  I'll  bet  a  hat! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

An  imaginary  hat? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Isn't  that  kind  good  enough  for  you? 

THE    BRUNETTE 

I    Well,  you're  on. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

All  right. 

THE   BLONDE 

I'm  going  to  be  the  young  married  woman.  I  feel 
it  coming.  And  you'll  be  the  hussy  who  tries  to  take 
him  away  from  me! 

THE    BRUNETTE 

What? 

THE   BLONDE 

But  you  won't  get  him!  (Taking  the  young  man's 
arm)  You  never  get  him.  I  think  you  would  have 
given  up  trying  by  this  time! 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Don't  blame  her,  dear.    It's  the  author's  fault. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Look! 

THE   BLONDE 

What  is  it? 

THE    BRUNETTE 

I've  found  part  of  the  program! 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (much  excited) 
Let  me  see!    (They  all  look) 


164  EMBRYO 


(THE  PROGRAM) 

THE    SUBSTITUTE 

A  PLAY  IN  ONE  ACT 


CHARACTERS: 

,  a  dead  man. 

,  his  wife. 

MABEL 
TREVELYAN 


THE  SCENE: 


\_A  huge  sheet  of  paper,  thus  lettered,  has  appeared  at 
the  back. 

THE  BRUNETTE  (reading  aloud) 

"The  Substitute, "a  play  in  one  act.  Characters: 
blank,  a  dead  man;  blank,  his  wife;  Mabel; 
Trevelyan.  The  scene:  there  isn't  any. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Good  Lord! 

THE  BLONDE  (sniffing) 

It's  going  to  be  a  tragedy !    A  dead  man ! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

How  can  it  be  a  tragedy?     The  dead  man's  dead 
already,  isn't  he?    Besides,  I  like  thrillers. 
{They  look  around  timidly.     At  the  rear  they  discern 
a  long,  recumbent  figure  wrapped  in  a  shroud. 


EMBRYO  165 


THE  YOUNG  MAN 

There  he  is! 

[He  moves  towards  him. 

THE  BLONDE  (clinging  to  his  arm)      Oh,    don't    touch 
him!     I'm  afraid! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

He  isn't  real.    What 's  the  difference? 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (lifting  the  shroud  from  the  dead  man's 

face) 

Peters!    By  all  that's  holy! 
THE  BLONDE     (with  equal  surprise) 

Nora! 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Are  you  dead,  Peters? 

THE   DEAD   MAN 

Quite  dead,  me  Lord. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Well,  well,  well!  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this;  not 
at  all! 

THE   BLONDE 

It  doesn't  begin  cheerfully,  does  it? 
THE  DEAD  MAN  (speaking  through  his  shroud) 
I  should  say  not,  darlint! 

THE   BLONDE 

Oh,  why  doesn't  the  author  wake  up?  Why  must 
he  take  a  nap  just  after  he's  started  to  write  the  play? 
We  might  as  well  be  nowheres! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

We  are  nowheres. 

[During  the  following,  the  characters  seat  themselves 
from  time  to  time,  chairs  or  stools  invariably  appear- 


166  EMBRYO 


ing  at  the  precise  instant  they  are  needed,  and  vanish 
ing  immediately  they  are  no  longer  required. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (who  has  been  thinking  hard)     I  be 
lieve  I've  got  the  story. 

THE  BLONDE  (breathlessly) 
Well? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (turning  to  the  brunette) 
He's  dead.    You're  "his  wife." 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Widow. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

It  says  wife  on  the  program. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Then  the  program's  wrong. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

The  program  can't  be  wrong. 

THE  BRUNETTE 

It  must  be.    The  wife  of  a  dead  man  is  a  widow. 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (exasperated) 

In  a  minute  you'll  be  telling  the  author  how  to  write 
the  play! 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Why  not?    I  couldn't  do  any  worse  than  he  does. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Well,  so  long  as  I  don't  have  to  be  in  love  with  you, 
I  don't  care  what  you  do. 

THE  BRUNETTE 

Don't  worry!    My  smart,  cynical  friend! 

THE   BLONDE 

Mr.  Catesby,  what's  your  plot? 


EMBRYO  167 


THE  YOUNG  MAN  (relieved) 

Well,  the  title's  "The  Substitute,"  and  I  must  be 
Trevelyan.     That's  right,  isn't  it? 

THE   BRUNETTE    (tJlOUghtfldhj) 

Of  course  you  might  be  "Mabel"  or  even  "his  wife." 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Eh? 

THE   BRUNETTE 

I  didn't  say  anything. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Now,  if  there's  a  substitute,  I  can't  be  it. 

THE    BLONDE 

Why  not? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Because  the  substitute  has  been  killed,  and  I'm  alive. 

THE   BLONDE 

How  wonderful  you  are! 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

It's  a  war  play.    I  was  drafted,  but  "his  wife,"  that 
is  to  say,  my  wife,  wouldn't  let  me  go. 

THE  BRUNETTE 

Ha! 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Well? 

THE  BRUNETTE 

I  couldn't  be  your  wife. 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

WTiy  not? 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Doesn't  it  say  "his?" 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

What  of  it? 


168  EMBRYO 


THE   BRUNETTE 

"His"  doesn't  mean  yours.  Besides,  if  I  had  been 
yours,  do  you  think  I  would  have  stopped  you  from 
going  to  war?  Ha! 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

That's  the  second  time  you've  said  "Ha!" 

THE  BRUNETTE 

I  meant  it  each  time. 

THE   BLONDE 

Yes,  yes,  go  on  with  the  story. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Well,  my  wife  wouldn't  let  me  go  to  the  war  (he 
glares  triumphantly  at  the  brunette),  so  the  dead  man 
went  instead  —  that  is,  he  went  before  he  was  dead. 

THE   BRUNETTE    (sotto  VOCe) 

And  you  said  you  were  smart  and  cynical!  Smart 
and  cynical! 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

He  was  killed  in  my  place  —  gave  his  life  for  me,  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  you  know.    And  my  wife  was  very 
much  pleased. 
THE  BRUNETTE  (incredulously) 

Pleased?  (Confidentially,  to  the  ceiling)  The  word 
was  "smart."  S-m-a-r-t,  smart. 

THE   BLONDE 

How  about  Mabel? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

You're  Mabel.    Mabel  is  the  dead  man's  daughter. 
THE  BLONDE  (with  a  smile  of  pleasure) 
So  Nora  is  my  father? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

Yes.   Your  poor,  dead  father,  who  gave  his  life  for  me. 


EMBRYO  169 


THE   BLONDE 

What  a  hero! 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

It's  a  very  sad  play. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

What  happens  after  the  body  is  brought  home? 

THE   YOUNG   MAN 

Nothing. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Nothing? 

THE   YOUNG  MAN 

Nothing  at  all.    It's  the  end  of  the  play.    What  do 
you  think  of  it? 

THE   BRUNETTE 

What  I  think?    Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  really 
think? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (unsteadily) 
Of  —  of  course. 

THE   BRUNETTE 

Well,  I  think  you're  much  cleverer  when  the  author 
writes  your  lines! 

[Satisfied  with  her  retort,  she  turns  her  back  on  him. 
Suddenly  an  all-pervading  yawn  is  heard,  apparently 
from  everyicheres  at  once,  and  the  Author,  a  tall, 
slightly  bald,  lazy  young  man,  appears  on  the  scene. 
THE  YOUNG  MAN  (in  a  sotto  voce  to  the  blonde) 
Hist!  Here's  the  author. 

THE   BLONDE 

Have  you  had  a  pleasant  nap,  sir? 
THE  AUTHOR  (who  is  polite  even  to  imaginary  ladies) 
Very  refreshing,  thank  you.    (He  refers  to  a  scrap  of 


170  EMBRYO 


paper)  To  the  right,  a  door.  (As  he  speaks  the  door 
appears  in  the  place  indicated)  To  the  left,  French 
windows,  through  which  comes  the  glow  of  an  Au 
tumn  sunset.  (Windows  and  sunset  appear.  He  in 
spects  them  carefully,  then  adds)  Heavily  curtained. 
(The  curtains  are  instantly  in  place)  There  is  a 
handsomely  carved  table  —  no  —  a  grand  piano. 
(the  table,  which  has  become  visible,  vanishes,  and  is 
immediately  replaced  by  the  piano)  and  at  center 
(he  pauses  in  surprise)  What  on  earth  is  this? 

THE   DEAD   MAN 

I'm  a  dead  man,  sir. 

THE  AUTHOR 

What? 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 

A  dead  man.    It  says  so  in  the  program. 

THE  AUTHOR 

Let  me  see  it.  (he  smiles)  It's  a  misprint.  It  should 
read  "Deaf  Man."  Get  up.  (Referring  to  his  notes 
again)  At  the  center,  a  fireplace.  The  room  is 
tastefully,  even  beautifully  furnished.  (As  he  speaks 
the  scene  is  transformed  gradually.  The  lights  which 
shine  upon  the  audience  die  out,  to  be  replaced  by  the 
usual  stage  lighting.  The  Author  surveys  the  change 
with  approbation)  That's  right!  (He  singles  out  the 
young  man)  You're  Trevelyan,  a  young  fellow  about 
town,  rather  smart  and  cynical. 

THE  YOUNG  MAN  (to  the  brunette) 

What  did  I  tell  you?    You  owe  me  a  hat. 

THE  AUTHOR  (addressing  the  brunette) 

The  deaf  man  is  your  husband.  But  you're  in  love 
with  Trevelyan. 


EMBRYO  171 


THE   YOUNG   MAN 

Good  Lord! 

THE   AUTHOR 

You  take  advantage  of  your  husband's  deafness  to 
make  love  to  Trevelyan  in  his  presence.  And  Mabel 
—  (he  looks  for  the  blonde)  —  where  are  you,  dear? 

THE  BLONDE 

Here,  sir. 

THE  AUTHOR 

You're  Mabel  —  the  deaf  man's  sister.  You're 
sweet,  and  simple,  and  innocent,  and  perfectly 
adorable. 

THE  BLONDE  (curtsying) 
Thank  you,  sir. 

THE   AUTHOR 

Now  here's  the  story.  The  wife  is  in  love  with  Tre 
velyan,  and  Mabel  finds  it  out  accidentally  by  read 
ing  a  letter.  She  wants  to  save  her  brother's  honor. 
But  where  is  the  brother?  (He  turns  to  the  deaf 
man)  Come  a  little  nearer,  will  you? 

THE  DEAF  MAN  (talking  on  his  fingers) 
You  seem  to  forget  my  affliction,  sir. 
\_The  Young  Man,  reading  the  deaf  and  dumb  language, 
speaks  the  words  aloud  as  he  deciphers  them.    He  does 
the  same  for  the  Author's  reply. 

THE  AUTHOR  (answering  him  in  deaf  and  dumb  lan 
guage)  Ah,  yes!  I'll  explain  it  all  to  you  after 
wards.  (He  turns  to  the  blonde)  'Where  did  I  leave 
you,  dear? 

THE   BLONDE 

Saving  my  brother's  honor,  sir. 


172  EMBRYO 


THE    AUTHOR 

Quite  so.  You  have  found  out  that  the  wife  loves 
Trevelyan,  and  even  though  you  have  never  met  him 
you  come  down  from  the  country  to  do  what  you  can. 
The  moment  Trevelyan  sees  you  it's  all  over. 

THE    BRUNETTE 

What  do  you  mean,  "all  over?" 

THE   AUTHOR 

I  mean  (snapping  his  fingers)  she  cuts  you  out  like 
that! 

THE    BRUNETTE    (furiously) 

I  won't  play! 

THE  AUTHOR  (with  the  smile  of  conscious  power)  No? 
But  I  fancy  you  will!  (He  turns  to  the  blonde)  You 
make  Trevelyan  fall  in  love  with  you,  dear,  and  then, 
when  you've  got  him  .  .  . 

THE   BLONDE 

Yes? 

THE  AUTHOR  (smiling) 

The  finish  is  a  surprise.  I'll  tell  you  when  we  come 
to  it.  Now,  as  the  curtain  rises, 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


NOTES  ON  THE  PLAYS 


NOTES  ON  THE  PLAYS 

THE  SEQUEL 

As  printed  in  the  text,  the  stage  directions  describing 
the  entrance  of  Horrocks,  Inc.,  are  intended  chiefly 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  reader.  The  actor  who 
plays  the  part  will  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  create 
the  desired  impression  unless  he  be  given  a  few  lines 
of  actual  dialogue.  The  prompt  copy  should  there 
fore  read  as  follows: 

THE  BUTLER  (announcing  hastily) 

Mr.  Horrocks! 

[There  is  a  rush.     The  Butler  is  swept  aside  and  Horrocks, 

Inc.,  stands  in  his  place.,  etc. 
HORROCKS,  INC.  (advancing  upon  his  son,  almost  incohereni 

in  his  anger) 

You  —  you  —  you  —  you  —  you  —  you  —  you — ! 
HE  (interrupting,  aghast) 

Father! 

HORROCKS,    IXC. 

Don't  call  me  that!    Oh,  don't  call  me  that! 
[He  rushes  at  his  son  as  if  he  would  brain  him.     But  his 
clenched  fist  stops  under  the  young  man's  nose,  and,  for  the 
first  time,  one  notices  that  it  brandishes  a  crumpled  sheet 
of  paper. 

HE  (taking  it,  panic-stricken) 
Wh-what  she  wrote  you? 

HORROCKS,    IXC. 

What  she  wrote  me;    yes,  what  she  wrote  me!     Ha! 
HE  (backing  away) 
May  I  read  it? 


176  NOTES  ON   THE   PLAYS 

HORROCKS,   INC. 

Read  it?    Oh,  yes!    Read  it!    Go  ahead!    Read  it! 
HE  (still  retreating  from  the  impending  destruction] 

"Dear  Mister  Department  Store  ..."    (With  incredulous 
appeal)     You  wrote  that,  Milly? 

HORROCKS,   INC. 

Go  on!    Go  on! 

HE 

"Please  call  for  goods  to  be  returned." 

THE   CURTAIN   FALLS   GENTLY 

In  the  production,  both  Milly  and  the  Butler  should 
be  on  the  stage  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain.  Indeed, 
neither  should  move  after  the  entrance  of  Horrocks, 
for  fear  of  injuring  the  final  situation.  The  Butler 
should  stand  exactly  where  Horrocks  has  flung  him; 
Milly  should  remain  at  the  spot  where  she  was  when 
she  delivered  her  final  line.  Milly 's  laughter  should 
be  suppressed  immediately  as  Horrocks  begins  to 
speak,  not  to  be  resumed  until  after  the  delivery  of 
the  last  line  of  the  play. 


THE  PREVIOUS  ENGAGEMENT 

In  an  experimental  production  of  this  little  play, 
made  before  its  inclusion  in  this  volume,  it  was  found 
quite  possible  to  make  a  satisfactory  record  for  the 
phonograph  on  one  of  the  blanks  sold  by  the  Edison 
company  for  commercial  purposes.  The  actor,  need 
less  to  say,  prepared  and  tested  the  record  beforehand, 
and  merely  simulated  its  making  in  the  actual  per 
formance.  The  record  was  distinctly  audible  through 
out  the  entire  theatre. 


NOTES   ON   THE   PLAYS  177 

IN   THE   NET 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the  leading 
actor  in  this  play  need  not  go  to  the  trouble  of  learn 
ing  the  art  of  ventriloquism.  The  lines  assigned  to 
Wilks  while  Murdoch  is  speaking,  are  delivered  by  an 
additional  actor  off  stage,  whose  voice,  it  goes  with 
out  saying,  should  resemble  that  of  \Yilks  as  nearly  as 
possible.  In  the  same  manner  the  additional  actor, 
secreted  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage,  delivers  the 
single  phrase  assigned  to  Murdoch  at  the  close  of  the 
play. 

EMBRYO 

A  rudimentary  explanation  of  "Black  Art"  may  be 
useful  to  producers  of  this  play. 

If  lights  of  sufficient,  but  not  too  great  intensity, 
are  turned  upon  an  audience,  and  if  the  stage  is  draped 
in  dead  black,  the  movement  of  similarly  clothed 
figures  will  be  quite  imperceptible.  Assistants,  garbed 
in  black  from  head  to  foot,  may  move  about  the  stage 
without  the  audience  being  aware  of  their  presence, 
if  they  take  the  single  precaution  never  to  allow  their 
figures  to  interpose  between  any  purposely  visible 
object  and  the  spectators. 

Thus  "appearing"  means  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  that  the  black  cloth,  which  has  concealed  a  cer 
tain  object  or  person,  is  suddenly  removed,  and  "dis 
appearing"  means  the  reverse  of  the  process.  The 
white  stools  or  chairs  which  are  used  from  time  to 
time  are  hidden  under  black  cloths  in  their  intervals 
of  "invisibility,"  and  so  hidden,  are  moved  from 


178  NOTES  ON   THE   PLAYS 

place  to  place  by  the  assistants,  who,  while  never  ap 
parent  to  the  audience,  are  always  discernible  to  the 
actors.  The  Program,  when  it  has  served  its  purpose, 
is  suddenly  turned  around,  and  quite  invisible  because 
of  its  blackened  reverse,  is  removed  by  the  assistants 
at  their  leisure. 

The  characters  of  the  play  are  dressed  in  colors 
which  are  visible  against  the  black  background.  The 
Brunette,  however,  wears  a  dead  black  skirt,  contain 
ing  a  large  pocket  sewn  only  at  one  side  and  the  bot 
tom.  By  passing  her  hand  through  it  she  obtains  the 
effect  of  passing  her  hand  through  her  knee. 

Additional  illusions  may  be  obtained  if  the  resources 
of  the  theatre  permit.  Thus  steps,  or  the  expedient 
of  standing  on  the  invisible  piano  itself,  permit  the 
actors  to  "appear"  at  different  levels  without  any 
visible  means  of  support.  The  final  scene,  fully  set 
and  concealed  when  the  curtain  rises,  will  be  dis 
closed,  following  the  Author's  dialogue,  as  one  cloth 
after  another  is  whisked  away. 

I 


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